When All Is Said and Done
by TeamFreeWill94
Summary: Sam and Dean decide they're done with the Angels and Demons. They've had enough and decide to get out. They're going back to the basics, back to being hunters. They're going back to "saving people, hunting things, the family business". See warnings and more information inside
1. Part I

**Story Summary: A multi-chaptered story of one-shots that follow Sam and Dean when they decide they're done with the Angels and Demons. They've had enough and decide to get out. They're going back to the basics, back to being hunters. They're going back to "saving people, hunting things, the family business".**

**Story Info: The story will be made up of chapters that can technically stand as one-shots as well as be read together as a story. There will be little plot lines that go through each installment but nothing major. This will _never_ be a death!fic and there will be absolutely _no _slash. There will be no set schedule for updates, just whenever I finish the next one and get it up.**

**Participants: Mostly Sam and Dean, and eventually Castiel but will also feature Kevin, Garth, Charlie, and other minor characters**

**Warnings: Completely AU following the end of Season 8. There will be mild language and there will be various kinds of violence. I will put a warning at the beginning of each chapter. If it can be considered a warning, there will be massive brotherly love and fluff in probably every chapter. There will probably be spoilers, things from the entire series mentioned and maybe described or used so be aware of that.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for maybe the plot, or lack thereof. Everything belongs to the CW and the creators of _Supernatural_. I am gaining nothing of monetary value from this writing.**

* * *

**Chapter Summary: The third trial is left incomplete. The Angels have been cast out of Heaven. Dean is left holding his dying brother in his arms and then must race him to the nearest hospital to save his life. Through it all he knows one thing: he's done, they both are. They are done with the Angels and Demons so they make a decision. They decide they're getting out, they're going back to basics.**

**Chapter Warnings: Mild language. Descriptions of blood, lots of it. Brotherly love and fluff.**

* * *

**Family Business**

Dean held Sam tight against him as they leaned against the Impala and watched the Angels fall. They had absolutely no idea what was happening only that the lights in the sky that looked like shooting stars were actually all Angels falling from Heaven. For those who knew exactly what was happening, it was actually a terrifying sight and thought.

Dean pulled Sam closer—though that was long since an impossible move—when he felt Sam's chest hitch and his body give a violent shudder. Sam's breathing was ragged and Dean found himself internally freaking out about what could be happening inside Sam's body.

His phone rang. Keeping his hold on Sam and watching the gold lights of Angels continue to light up the sky, he worked at pulling his phone out of his pocket. He tapped the screen and put it to his ear.

"Kevin?" he said, brushing his other hand through Sam's hair when Sam gave a brutal cough that shook the both of them. He cringed at the blood that now flecked Sam's lips.

"_Dean, what's happening? The entire bunker just lit up_," the young Prophet said.

Dean glanced at the falling Angels again and squeezed Sam, letting his head fall back against the Impala. "It's so beyond our pay grade, Kevin," he said. Good lord, how long would it take for the Angels to stop falling?

"_What's going on_?"

"The Angels have been thrown out of Heaven. They're all falling to Earth," Dean said and blinked at the absurd words.

"_I don't even know if there's a response to that_."

Dean snorted humourlessly. "What's happening back there?"

"_Nothing except the map is completely lit up. The entire thing is a giant light_."

"Freakin' Angels," Dean muttered.

"_Are the Angels going to have all their powers still_?"

"Good question," Dean said with a sigh.

"_Um, Dean_?"

"Yeah?"

"_What happened? With Sam? The trial_?"

Dean looked at his brother still collapsed against his chest, still shuddering and coughing and basically sounding like he was dying. For all he knew, Sam _was_ dying despite that not being an option. Should he bring Sam to a hospital? What if there was something seriously supernaturally wrong and going to a hospital only caused problems? What if not going meant Sam died?

"_Dean_?"

"Yeah, that's over. Sam didn't finish the trial. It was going to kill him if he didn't pull out," Dean said, putting his hand on Sam's forehead when his brother's shaking increased almost violently.

"_And now_?"

Dean sighed again. "It's not good, Kevin. I don't know exactly what's wrong but he needs help."

"_Hospital_?"

"I don't know," Dean said and closed his eyes. "I don't know."

"_You have to get out of there_."

"Yeah, I'm aware," Dean said and looked around, the night still lit up by the Angels. "All right, we're leaving as soon as Sam's able. Don't leave the bunker. Don't even go near the door until we get there. Got it?"

"_Got it. Just...be careful, yeah_?"

"Kid, I think that ship is long gone," Dean said and hung up on Kevin's short laugh. "So, Sam," he said casually as though he wasn't watching his brother possibly die or the Angels being cast out of Heaven.

He shifted to allow both of his arms to wrap around Sam and sighed for the third time. He could honestly say that he didn't have a single idea what to do. Thoughts of not wanting to know were drifting through his mind too. Everything just got a whole lot more complicated and he wasn't sure he had the energy to deal with it. Honestly, the only thing he cared about was his little brother fighting for his life in Dean's own arms.

"Sam?" Dean said, giving every bit of his attention to Sam. "Sam, talk to me."

Sam coughed again, spraying blood across Dean's jacket and shirt. Dean moved again so he could tip Sam's head back and see Sam's face. Sam was pale and flushed all at once. His eyes were closed and, besides the involuntary shudders, he didn't move but Dean knew he was conscious. He brushed back Sam's bangs and slid his hand to cup Sam's cheek. His lips twitched into a smile when Sam turned into the touch. Blood covered Sam's lips and chin and was beginning to soak the neck of his shirt. The blood was not helping his fear of internal bleeding.

"Sam?"

Sam moaned and coughed again.

"Take your time. You're okay. We're fine." He pointedly ignored the still falling Angels. Honestly, how many were there? He moved his hand to the back of Sam's head and waited for Sam to gather enough strength to speak despite Sam needing medical care.

"D'n?"

Dean looked down and smiled when he saw Sam's eyes were cracked open.

"Hey, little brother."

"'appenin'?"

"Ah, you know. The usual. Possibly dying, world going to hell, Angels falling from the sky," Dean said and smiled at the breathy huff that was meant to be a laugh.

"Hospital?"

"I'm debating," Dean said. "You feel up to moving and getting the hell out of town?"

"Maybe," Sam said but neither of them so much as twitched.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel like it's going to be weeks before I'm even remotely better," Sam mumbled. "Can't tell if I'm dying or not."

"Awesome," Dean said. "Definitely going to the nearest hospital. Ready to move?"

"Am I allowed to say no?" Sam said and Dean chuckled.

"You can but I won't listen," Dean said, shifting around so he could get a grip on Sam to get them both standing. It took time and manoeuvring but he was eventually settling Sam into the passenger's seat. He didn't comment on Sam's tears. He didn't know if they were from pain or the trial or just their life in general at the moment. He had a feeling it was everything all twisted together.

He shook his head and got in the driver's seat. He looked at Sam who was curled against the door as much as he could be. Then his heart dropped when Sam began coughing, sounding like he was trying to get rid of his lungs and blood started going everywhere.

"Sam!"

Sam was beyond the ability of speech. He was torn between coughing, being unable to breath, and throwing up. Two out of the three involved an increasing amount of blood loss as he continued to give the Impala's interior a new decor. He held his right hand over his mouth as though it would stop the blood and coughing. His left hand was flailing, trying to find anything solid to grasp to ground him. He was, of course, hoping for something specific but was unable to make the request. Luckily his big brother was Dean which meant he could've been paralyzed and in a coma, and Dean would still know what he needed. Dean's hand grasped his and he held on as tight as he could.

He could feel the car speeding along the road and he knew Dean was severely breaking every speed limit.

He held tight to Dean and tried to listen to his brother's reassurances even as he knew this was it. He knew it was over. They should've known that the trials would kill him whether he finished or not. It had been evident in the way he had gotten steadily sicker as he finished each trial. He was done now.

He supposed he was okay with dying if only because he probably didn't have a choice. He didn't want to die but he wasn't sure he could be saved this time. He didn't want to die but, even more than that, he didn't want to leave Dean. They had left each other alone so many times in so many ways and he didn't want to do it again. He knew Dean would not survive losing him again, not this time. Besides, they were finally becoming brothers again. They had been closer since the trials started than they had been since Dad died. He didn't want to miss the chance to make that growing bond stronger once again.

There _was_ one thing positive in dying. Just one thing though. He would be able to get away from the insanity of the Angels and Demons, particularly the Angels now. He didn't mind the hunting life—anymore—but he was sick of the wars and the Angels and the Demons. He was sick of Angels and Demons toying with his and Dean's lives, their relationship. He was done with the Angels and Demons. He wanted to go back to when it was cases and Wendigos and ghosts and werewolves. Leaving behind the campaign in Hell and the hell that was Heaven and the hell on Earth was the only plus side to dying.

In between the thinking and the coughing and the bleeding, it took some time to realize the car was no longer moving. He could also hear Dean shouting even if he couldn't understand the words. He was soon being moved and a towel was being pushed to his mouth, but even through all that he could still feel his hand firmly clasped in Dean's.

He was laid out on a gurney but he stayed on his side as the blood continued to come. How wasn't he in a coma or dead from blood loss yet? Surely he had coughed up more than he had in his body.

There were voices everywhere even when his bed started moving, but it was his brother's that he forced himself to focus on.

"Sammy...surgery...be okay...be here...waiting..."

He couldn't follow the full sentences but he got the essentials. He attempted to speak past the blood and constriction in his chest, an attempt that sapped all of his remaining energy.

"D'n...out...done...busi..."

"Yeah, yeah...fine...talk later...okay...Sammy..."

Then he felt Dean's hand slip from his and he was taken alone into the OR.

* * *

"Sam!"

Dean's heart stopped painfully in his chest as Sam curled forward with his wrenching coughs and the blood began to pretty much pour from his brother's mouth. He could hear Sam fighting to breathe and saw the tears start to pour down his face. Dean winced at the blood now dripping from Sam's right hand as Sam made a desperate attempt to quell the bleeding.

Sam's reaching left hand was all the gesture he needed to know what Sam wanted. He immediately grasped his brother's hand and squeezed as he threw the car into drive and took off. He ignored every speed limit sign and just pushed the Impala to go faster and faster. He kept a hold of Sam's hand and cast him desperate, worried glances every three seconds.

"Hang on, Sammy, you're gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine, just hold on for me. Hang on for me, little brother. Don't you check out yet, it's not time. We go together or not at all, remember? Well, I'm not ready so looks like you've gotta stick around."

He kept up a continuous stream of words, whether for himself or Sam or both, he didn't know. Sam had, of course, been coughing and throwing up blood since basically the beginning of the trials but it was never more than a few drops in the palm. This...this was terrifying. There was already a pool of blood at Sam's feet, his jeans were soaked, and blood dripped down the dashboard over the glove box.

He felt his own eyes burn as he once more glanced at Sam who fought for a breath while expelling what had to be his weight in blood. Even in his job as a hunter, he had never seen so much blood and to have it coming from his little brother made his heart shatter.

He couldn't lose Sam, not again, not now. There was no way he could handle losing Sam again, especially not to death when there would be no way to get him back this time. There would be no Demon deals or the equivalent of Angel deals. There would be no bets with Death. There would be no Trickster—Archangel, whatever—to hunt down and make reality return. There would be no Castiel stepping in. Sam would be dead...gone, for good.

And that was something he just couldn't accept. He would not—could not—live in a world with Sam dead, just like all those years ago in Cold Oak. True, he had managed that year Sam was in Lucifer's Cage. Well, thought to be in the Cage but really running around soulless. He'd only gotten by the year he was with Lisa and Ben. Yes, he had loved them, still did and always would, but he'd only survived. He hadn't lived and he hadn't been happy.

"_And as long as he's in your life, you're never gonna be happy_."

Lisa's words floated through the hell that was currently his mind. He blinked at the words and knew it was so far from the truth. Lisa didn't understand, never had and never would. He would _only_ be happy if Sam was in his life. He couldn't be happy without the kid, couldn't live.

Was their relationship co-dependent and unhealthy the way Lisa said it was? Hell yeah, but she would never understand why or how it worked. They were a part of each other and you can't live with a piece of you missing.

He put the gas to the floor when he saw a sign for a hospital only just up the road.

"Hang on, Sammy, we're almost there," Dean said, squeezing Sam's hand and wincing at the blood staining his car as it exited his brother's body.

He took that last corner quite fast and nearly ran another car off the road. Later, had it happened, he would've cared but with Sam's life on the line, he could care less about anything other than Sam. He raced through the hospital's parking lot, hitting the brakes only when they were nearly in the ER.

He threw his door open and leaned out as far as he could while still holding onto Sam.

"Help! Someone help! Hey! Somebody help me!" he yelled, waving his left hand and then used his knee to hit the horn. He yelled until nurses were surrounding his car and growled at them when they told him to get out of the car, to let Sam go.

He had no idea how they managed but they got Sam out of the car and on a gurney with a towel in his face all without Dean losing his hold on Sam's hand. That towel had been a beige colour but now it was completely red and blood was dripping from it. As they raced into the hospital, the nurses tried to get Sam to lie on his back but Dean snapped at them.

"If he lies on his back, he'll not only be unable to breathe but he'll choke on his blood!" Dean said angrily, glaring at the young woman who was stupid enough to suggest it. "Don't you dare restrain my brother!" he shouted, making all the nurses jump, including the woman holding the padded straps that she was about to secure to Sam's wrists.

After a long staring contest as they ran through the hospital, the nurse nodded stiffly and dropped the restraints. Dean looked down at Sam and saw the blood had slowed minutely, though he wasn't sure if that was good or not.

"Sammy?"

"Sir, we have to get him to the OR. You will have to wait here," one of the nurses said.

"Can I come to the doors at least? It'll keep him calm."

"Yes, you may."

"Thank you," Dean said and returned to Sam. "Sammy? Sammy, they're taking you to surgery. You're gonna be okay and I'm gonna be right here waiting for you. All right?"

His eyes widened when he noticed Sam trying to gain some control, enough to speak.

"D'n...out...done...busi..."

Dean frowned. He had a feeling he knew what Sam was saying but he wouldn't dwell. They would discuss it later.

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. We'll talk later about it, all right? You're gonna be okay. You'll be okay and I'll be here, Sammy."

They were at the doors to the OR and he was forced to finally release Sam's hand. He stared at the swinging doors as they made Sam disappear from his sight.

He ran his hands over his hair but pulled away when he felt his hair grow damp. He looked at his hands and felt ill at all the blood that covered them, especially his right. He had no problem with blood, not unless it was his brother's. He could feel how badly he was shaking now and began to feel extremely light headed.

"Sir? Sir?"

He blinked at the twenty-something girl that was now standing next to him. He looked blankly at her bright yellow scrubs.

"Sir, can you hear me? Sir, are you all right? Do you need any help?"

"Dean," he said without thinking. "'M Dean."

"Dean," she repeated with a smile. "All right, Dean, come take a seat. You need to relax and then fill out the information for your brother."

She was one of the nurses that had helped get Sam on the gurney. She had disappeared into the hospital again after that.

He didn't feel her take his arm and he would never recall walking away from the OR and to the waiting room. At some point he was given a damp cloth and he mechanically wiped the blood from his hands. He was also given a clipboard and pen with instructions to fill it out but take his time. He got as far as writing 'Sam' as Sam's first name before shoving the paperwork aside and burying his face in his hands.

His hands still had a tint of red to them and they smelled rusty, like blood. He shoved his fingers through his hair and then braced his arms on his legs, clasping his hands tightly and dropping his head. He made the noise of the hospital background noise and tried not to think of Sam's chances of dying. He was vaguely aware of the other people in the waiting room but tried to ignore them, including the weeping thirty-something woman two seats away.

"Excuse me, Dean?"

A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped to his feet, ready to attack. His movement made the nurse in yellow scrubs jump back in surprise, her eyes wide.

"Sorry," he muttered, not really meaning it.

"Dean, we need to move your car. We wanted to see if you wanted to move it or have security move it?"

Dean blinked, slowly processing the question. "I'll move it," he finally said. The nurse nodded with a smile and returned to the nurse's station.

He absently searched his pockets for his keys but came up empty. He realized then he had left the keys in the car. Hell, he had left his door open and left the car running. Now he was surprised the car hadn't been stolen. He shook his head and went outside to the Impala that was only a couple feet from being parked in the ER doors.

As he dropped in the driver's seat, his eyes were pulled to the blood that covered the entire right side of the car. He had meant to ignore the blood but that was obviously impossible. He was going to have to rip out that entire side and replace it. He would never be able to wash all the blood out.

He swallowed and tore his eyes from the blood. He put the car in reverse and pulled away from the hospital. He parked in the first spot he found and immediately returned to the waiting room, his keys in his pocket this time. He sat heavily in his previous seat. The clipboard was still on the chair next to him where he had tossed it.

He took a deep breath and made himself pick the board up again. This was one thing he could do for his brother, at least until he was out of surgery and in a room recovering.

He didn't bother with an alias and put 'Winchester' as Sam's surname. He didn't bother with fake insurance. They would figure that out later. He put down Sam's birthday, medical history, allergies, and reason for visit. He put down his own information and cell number as Sam's emergency contact and living family. He wrote in their family history and left an address blank. He waved the nurse over—finally noticing her name was Jen—and handed her the board without a word. When she took it and tried to ask about his insurance and a home address, he just glared at her until she scurried away with wide eyes.

"_Stop scaring the nurses, dude_," he could hear Sam say in his head and he rolled his eyes. The kid was in life-saving surgery and he was still chastising Dean.

He ran a hand over his face and sat back in the hard chair, exhausted as he lost his adrenaline. With the disappearance of that adrenaline, he could feel the shaking of his entire body, the pounding behind his eyes, and the burning in his eyes. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop any threatening tears.

He knew his attempts were failing when his phone rang. He ignored the caller ID and automatically answered.

"_Dean_?"

"Hey, Kevin."

"_What's going on? Where are you_?"

"Hospital."

"_Where? What hospital_?"

"I honestly have no idea," Dean said. "I stopped at the first one I found."

"_Why? What happened_?"

"It's Sam. He, uh," Dean trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "He's bad, real bad. He started coughing and bleeding and it wouldn't stop. He—they took him for surgery."

"_How long ago_?"

Dean glanced at his watch and blinked in surprise. "An hour and ten minutes."

"_No news_?"

"No, nothing yet."

There was silence on the line for a time.

"_I'm sure he'll be okay. It's Sam. He's gotten through a lot. He can get through this too_."

"Yeah," was all Dean said. "What's happening there?"

"_Everything's normal, even the map. It's like nothing happened. You think it was the Angels falling_?"

"Probably."

"_What are we going to do_?"

"Another good question," Dean said, sighing. "We'll deal with it when Sam isn't in danger of bleeding to death."

"_Right_."

"I'll call you later, let you know about Sam."

"_Okay, yeah_."

Dean hung up and closed his hand in a fist around his phone, pressing it against his forehead and closing his eyes again. He felt every last bit of energy leave him and did nothing about the tears that coursed down his cheeks.

* * *

"Mr. Winchester? Mr. Winchester, wake up."

Despite his life and job and training and the situation, Dean woke up slowly. He blinked and rubbed one eye while looking around, trying to remember what was happening.

"Mr. Winchester?"

He turned his head to look at the owner of the voice. He stared at the woman blankly.

Then every detail rushed back and he sat up quickly with wide eyes. He had lain down on the tiny loveseat that barely fit his upper body. He glanced down at his watch.

Seven and a half hours. He had been at the hospital for seven and a half hours. Sam had been in surgery for seven and a half hours.

"Mr. Winchester?"

He looked at the nurse—Jen—again and took in her worried expression. It made his heart sink. That was the look the doctors had when they were about to tell you something had gone seriously wrong.

"What's wrong? How's Sam?" he said anxiously.

"Your brother is out of surgery. He is being kept in the ICU for the next twenty-four hours. He is still in danger but not as much," Jen said.

"What was wrong?"

"He had massive internal bleeding and his kidneys, liver, and lungs were shutting down. His heart rate was so fast we feared a heart attack. He had a very high fever and it is still there, but it has been lowered. As I said, he is still in danger and so he's in the ICU for observation."

"Is he...dying?"

"Currently, no. A lot can happen in twenty-four hours but he does have a chance," Jen said. "Would you like to see him now?"

"Yes."

She nodded and motioned for Dean to follow her. "He is in bad shape and he looks it, but try to remain calm. He is hooked up to several machines and has a ventilator helping him breathe. It is unlikely he will wake up until tomorrow. I will let the others know that you are staying and not to bother you."

"Thank you," Dean said and walked into the room occupied by his brother.

He stopped when he saw Sam. There were tubes everywhere and the white sheets made Sam look even paler. His eyes were dark, looking badly bruised. He hated the sight of the tube in his brother's throat. It was nice that Sam was no longer covered in his own blood. His bangs were sticking to his forehead from the fever and, besides his eyes and chest, he didn't move. His little brother did not look like the thirty year old man he was. He looked like Dean's baby brother again, in need of his big brother's protection.

He ran a hand over his face and approached the bed. He reached for a chair and set it next to the bed, sitting down heavily. He reached a hand out and hesitated only a moment for fear of hurting Sam further before taking Sam's hand in his own. He gripped it tight, wishing Sam would hold back.

He swallowed thickly and squeezed Sam's hand hard.

"Sammy?" he said, ignoring the way his voice shook. "Come on, man, don't do this."

But Sam remained silent, still, and unconscious.

"Sammy, now is not the time to ignore me," Dean said, knowing he was being ridiculous. "Listen to your big brother for once, dude."

A response never came and tears burned his eyes once again. He dropped his head and tried to hold back on the breakdown he knew was coming at some point. He bent over until he was resting his forehead on the bed next to their clasped hands.

He wouldn't remember falling asleep but he did so quickly as everything finally caught up to him and he was unable to continue for that day.

* * *

"_They're saying it was an unexpected meteor shower_," Kevin said and Dean rolled his eyes. He kept watching the almost silent TV as the news continued and he shook his head as the news woman said the same thing as Kevin.

'_Last night we experienced an unexpected meteor shower and it was seen all over the world. We have yet to know why such a large shower was unknown to meteorologists but we are being kept informed, and will provide you with an explanation when we receive one_.'

"See this madness, Sammy?" Dean said amusedly to his still unconscious brother as he let his thumb unconsciously rub his brother's wrist. They had been at the hospital for three days. Sam had been moved from the ICU to a regular room and that's where Dean had been camped out for the last two days. The doctors said Sam was stable but was still in extremely bad shape and they honestly didn't think he would wake up.

He figured Sam wouldn't be pleased to learn he had punched the doctor that said it. Just because the doctors were too stupid to give his brother a chance did not excuse stupid comments.

The ventilator was gone to be replaced with the little plastic tube that sat under Sam's nose. That was really the only change. Sam still had about three IVs and monitors everywhere.

"_Any change_?"

Dean sighed. "No, nothing yet."

"_What did the doctor say_?"

"Before or after I broke his nose?"

"_Ah, so he said Sam won't wake up_," Kevin said, sounding amused despite the serious situation. "_I thought doctors were supposed to be smart_?"

"Some of them clearly missed that class," Dean said and Kevin chuckled. "Have you heard from Cas?"

"_No. I've been praying and calling his phone but he's not answering_," Kevin said. "_You think something happened to him when the Angels fell_?"

"I'm starting to think so," Dean said. "He was with Metatron and I think they were in Heaven."

"_So the real question is was Cas involved in the Angels falling or was he made to fall too_?"

Dean briefly took his hand from Sam to run it down his face, pressing his fingertips to his eyes, before taking Sam's wrist again.

"There's also the question of do we really want to know?"

Kevin sighed too on the other end of the line. "_I've been looking through the Demon Tablet but, obviously, it's about the Demons so not much Angel talk_."

"Forget about it, Kevin. Forget the tablet for now. Take a break, a long break. Get some rest and eat a real meal. The kitchen should be stocked."

"_Umm..._"

"We're all taking a break, Kevin. We need to get back on our feet, figure out what we want to do," Dean said and could hear Kevin's frown.

"_You're not going to do something stupid, are you_?" Kevin said and Dean rolled his eyes.

"What exactly am I going to do?"

"_Exactly_."

Dean grinned. "Go sleep, Kevin. Try to look less like a zombie when we get home."

"_Dick_."

Dean chuckled and hung up. He looked at Sam and knew his expression softened like a girl. He rolled his eyes at himself. "I'm ready to go home, Sam, and I know you are too. Plus we need to get back and take care of Kevin."

He watched Sam breathe for a while, just thinking about everything happening. There were things they had to talk about, things they had to make decisions about. They had to get back to Kevin if just because he missed the Prophet. They had to at least know what happened to Cas even if they didn't actually find him.

They just had to get home.

"I don't really know what we're gonna do but that's why you need to wake up, so we can figure it out. I'm not doing this myself so you might as well wake up. If you leave, I'm going to sit back and watch the world implode. Okay, so that's something we'll be talking about, if we're staying in this or not, but that will be _our_ decision and what we do _together_. Well, and Kevin. We have no idea about his mother, whether Crowley was lying or not when he said he killed her, so we've gotta watch out for him. We've gotta keep Garth from influencing him too much and we have to make sure Garth doesn't get himself killed.

"We've gotta figure out what the hell Cas is up to or involved in now. Who knows, maybe news of the Angels has reached Charlie in her castle and she'll make an appearance. I know you'd like to see her again. I know you miss her. I do too. I'll call her if you wake up so she can come stumbling in here and make you smile. Gotta get you smiling again, little brother.

"It's time to go home, Sammy, and when we do, we are redecorating your room. It's _your_ room, kiddo, so act like it. I know you've been keeping the bunker more 'business' but that's over. You're going to learn what it's like to have a real home so you better be ready. We are filling your room with all those books and geeky things you keep everywhere _except_ your room. I think I'm going to knock that wall down between our rooms, though, put in sliding doors. Maybe get those paper doors like in Japan. Be able to hear everything and if, for some reason, the door doesn't open, I can just rip through it."

Dean fell silent then, considering his little brother. Sam still looked ill and injured and small, but not as bad. His eyes weren't as dark or maybe he wasn't as pale. From the outside you would never know that almost anything could make Sam start bleeding or make his organs start shutting down again. Even if Sam woke up, the doctors said he might never be able to leave the hospital. They seemed to think it was only the machines keeping Sam alive.

Kevin was right. Weren't doctors supposed to be smart?

Dropping his phone in his lap, he lifted his legs to rest his feet on the bed and leaned back in his chair. Still holding onto Sam, still rubbing the wrist with his thumb, he grabbed the TV remote and searched for something to watch. He smiled indulgently as he stopped on some history-documentary channel and sat back to watch the speculations on the Bermuda Triangle.

* * *

Dean frowned but tried to ignore the odd sensation on his wrist. It was a feather-light touch and something was moving across his skin. More asleep than awake, it took an embarrassingly long time to remember the black rubber bracelet that he had on that wrist. The question of what was moving across his skin was answered, it was his bracelet. Now, why was it moving and what else was touching him?

It didn't seem dangerous which was probably a good thing since he still hadn't come any farther out of sleep. He wanted to go back to sleep but something was telling him to stay awake, well, telling him to wake up. He groaned, wanting to ignore that something. He rolled his head and twitched his hand, frowning at the quiet, soft laugh. Who was laughing?

He made himself follow his feeling and that laugh, and forced his eyes open. It took effort—a lot of it—but soon he was trying to see through blurry vision. He heard the laugh again and turned his head to the sound. He knew that laugh though he hadn't heard it for years, only a fake version. He had missed that laugh but knew it was gone. So why was he hearing it now?

His vision clearing brought into focus a weary but smiling face. A face that had been still and closed off for nine and a half days. He glanced at the clock. Nope, ten days and five hours now. A face he had been told to say goodbye to because it would never wake up.

It was awake.

It was looking at him.

It was smiling at him.

"Sammy."

Sam smiled again. "Hey, De," he whispered, his voice hoarse and weak and tired, but clearly happy. Dean's name was shortened to the version used by a chubby toddler Sammy unable to say 'Dean' fully.

It was the best word in the world. He might have to change his name just to hear that term that proved Sammy was awake, was alive.

He looked down at his arm, feeling that touch on his wrist again. It was Sam. Upon waking and noticing Dean, he had apparently taken his hand out from under Dean's. Instead he was playing with the bracelet on Dean's wrist, something he had done as a child and had taken to doing when he was hurt or upset in place of the lost amulet.

"Sam."

"Yeah, De."

Dean felt his eyes fill with tears as he stared at his little brother. He could care less about the way he was acting, that he was doing his own chick flick moment.

He reached out to brush Sam's hair, unable to believe how close he had come once again to losing this kid. His hand dropped to Sam's cheek and his heart stuttered with happiness and love when Sam smiled fondly and relaxed under the touch. Sam was still playing with the bracelet but never moved his eyes from Dean's. Dean slid his hand to Sam's neck and Sam's eyes closed at the familiar comfort. Dean squeezed gently.

"Never do that to me again," he finally hissed though it was no more than a whisper.

Sam's eyes opened and, with another smile, he nodded.

"God, Sammy," Dean breathed, feeling his control slipping.

"I'll be okay, De."

Dean ignored the few tears that hit his cheeks. He just stared at his baby brother.

"De?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Talk 'bout somethin'?"

Dean blinked away his tears the best he could. "You need to rest."

"Will, just..."

Dean sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position without ever taking his hands from Sam. "All right, talk."

Sam bit his lip, clearly thinking about what he wanted to say. "I want to get out."

"Out? Out of where? The hospital? Not yet, Sammy, you just woke up and you're in bad shape."

"No, not that. De," Sam took a breath, "I don't wanna deal with Angels anymore, or Demons."

"You wanna stop hunting?" Dean said hesitantly.

"No, that's the thing. I want to go _back_ to hunting," Sam said and sighed at Dean's confusion. "What we've been doing all these months, hell, the past couple years hasn't been hunting. Yeah, we've had cases but we haven't been hunting, not really. We've been soldiers again for Angels and Demons and, yeah, there's a difference between being a hunter and being a soldier."

He paused and swallowed, gratefully sipping the glass of water Dean suddenly had.

"I'm tired of the Angels and the Demons, De, and I don't wanna be trapped in it anymore," Sam said, sounding exhausted. "I want to go back, De."

"Back to what, Sammy?" Dean said quietly.

"Back to basics," Sam said and Dean chuckled. "I just want to be a hunter again. Saving people, hunting things..."

"The family business," Dean finished and watched his brother. Sam tried to seem relaxed but Dean knew. Sam was worried about his response, worried that he would think Sam was running away. Dean knew that wasn't it at all. Hell, he had been considering just what Sam had proposed.

Could they do it though? Could they pull out when they were in so deep and had been for so long? The Angels and Demons had a fascination with them but they allowed that fascination to continue, always jumping in and helping and causing trouble and attracting attention. Besides, they had kicked destiny's ass before so why couldn't they pull out of this? They didn't _have_ to be a part of whatever was happening. It was between the Angels or between Crowley and Abaddon. They did not have any further connection to what was happening, not really, not enough of one to keep them tied down.

So...could they pull it off? Could they get out? They weren't retiring, just...demoting themselves. They would still hunt the supernatural, still be hunters, but that's what they would be, not the Angels' soldiers or the Demons' callboys. They'd be what they were before he went to Hell, before Cold Oak.

He felt himself smile. He could handle that. He turned his attention back to Sam who was watching him warily.

"I think that's the best idea I've heard in years," Dean said, pleased when Sam smiled in relief, happiness, and surprise.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean said casually, running his fingers through Sam's shaggy hair. The kid needed a trim if not a cut. "I think we've done more than enough, been screwed around enough. I think it's time to get our own lives back."

"You're serious? Even with Abaddon? Even with Metatron and all the fallen Angels?"

"Abaddon's issues are with Crowley. I'm sure there are Angels that can deal with Metatron," Dean said. "Sammy, it's time to be us again. The Angels and Demons can grow the hell up and learn to handle their own issues. In fact, it's really sad and embarrassing that they need _humans_ to solve their problems and temper tantrums."

He cocked an eyebrow and just smiled when Sam's eyes brightened and swam.

"We'll hammer out the details when we get home and we're not doing anything even remotely close to hunting of any kind for a long time but, yeah, it's back to basics for us, little brother," Dean said.

"Sounds good," Sam said quietly and Dean knew he was seconds from falling to sleep, so he started to methodically run his fingers through Sam's hair. The soothing movement caused Sam's eyes to flutter and Dean just rolled his eyes when Sam fought a losing battle. "Thanks, De."

"Yeah, love you too, baby brother, now go to sleep. You know I'll be here."

Dean gazed at Sam affectionately as his brother slept, turned towards and curled the best he could be towards Dean. Hopefully they'd be able to leave the hospital soon and when back home, they'd figure it all out.

**To Be Continued...**


	2. Part II

**Summary:**** It's time to go home. After so long in the hospital, it's about time Sam was released to finish his healing at home with his big brother. However, just because he was being sent home didn't mean there weren't **_**a lot**_** of things that could happen and to watch for.**

**Warnings:**** Mild language. Lots of brotherly fluff.**

**Author's Note:**** Since it's just the boys going home, there's not much excitement in this chapter. However, Sam cannot be nearly dying in every chapter so just enjoy some brotherly company. I know it also seems I've let Sam off easy (and I have compared to canon) but he will experience problems while at home, just not in this chapter. I made up where the church is that was used for the third trial. I tried to find the actual location but it's never mentioned, not that I could find. So I used the idea that there is an abandoned church by Stull Cemetery and used that as the location for the church.**

**Enjoy and review :)**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Homeward Bound**

"Morning, Sammy," Dean said, wandering back into the hospital room with his beverage that was pretending to be coffee.

"Hey," Sam said and eyed Dean's cup. "Please tell me you brought me some."

"Nope, no coffee for you. Doctor's orders," Dean said, taking an exaggerated drink as he took back the seat that been his home for days.

Eighteen days. They had been in the hospital for eighteen days. In those eighteen days, Sam's heart had stopped once, his lung collapsed once, his kidneys shut down twice, his liver began to shut down once, he had two allergic reactions, and his lungs filled with blood twice.

In those eighteen days, Dean had aged eighty years.

Despite all these things, Sam was being released, was finally being sent home. The brothers were happy to leave the hospital but Dean was worried because he knew Sam was far from healed. He had questioned Sam's doctor only to be told the doctor thought Sam would heal better at home. They—mostly Dean—had been given pages of directions to ensure Sam's healing when they went home. Literally, the doctor had handed Dean five pages of printed directions.

Sam still spent more hours asleep than he did awake. He couldn't walk without help and he barely had an appetite though that was slowly growing. He would be in danger of internal bleeding and coughing up blood for a while still, the same with his organs failing. He was on a long list of medications that Dean had already memorized the information of. It all made Sam extremely weary.

"Hey, Kevin."

He looked over at Dean who was now on his phone. When did Dean's phone go off?

"We'll be leaving in a few hours...probably won't, not tonight...you're fine there? Yeah, yeah, shut up...Cas? I figured...yeah...don't know...make sure his room's ready...dude, go to sleep, you're not making sense...yeah...I know...yeah...yeah, fine...okay, later." He ended the call and turned back to Sam.

"How's Kevin?" Sam asked.

"Still exhausted and sounds like he's getting sick, but fine otherwise. He just woke up, thought he'd check in," Dean said, finishing off his lukewarm coffee.

"Not surprised he's sick," Sam said. "He's been living on coffee, candy, and zero sleep."

Dean nodded. "He'll be okay."

"Cas?"

Dean sighed. "Nothing yet. Kevin's been trying his phone but it's always out of service or goes to voicemail. He's not answering prayers either."

Sam bit his lip. "Think something happened when the Angels fell?"

It had been eighteen days since the Angels were kicked out of Heaven and, so far, there was no indication their fall had caused anything. The 'meteor shower' had been forgotten. It was all strange but Castiel was the only one they cared about. They hadn't discussed their 'back to basics' plan but it was in their minds, waiting for the right time.

"I don't know," Dean finally said. "I hope not. Maybe he's with another Angel that's helping him."

"I don't think any Angel will be fond of him right now. Whether he fell or not, Cas was still a part of locking up Heaven," Sam said.

Dean ran a hand over his face tiredly. "Guess we'll find out eventually."

Sam nodded. "Anything else from Kevin?"

"Not really. Checking to see if we'd make it back today and he's getting your room ready."

"It'll be nice to get out of here," Sam said, dropping his head back on the pillows. The bed was raised slightly so he was sitting more than lying down.

"I still don't—"

"Dean," Sam interrupted immediately. "The doctor is releasing me and it's not even AMA. I'm okay, okay enough to get out of here."

Dean pulled the pages of instructions from his back pocket. "There's just so much."

"A lot of it is probably medications and bad reactions to look for."

"That doesn't fill me with confidence."

Sam just rolled his eyes and watched Dean read through the instructions.

* * *

"You must remain on bed rest for another two weeks," the doctor was saying.

It was finally time to go. The doctor was giving them last minute instructions and reminders before allowing Sam and Dean to walk out of the hospital. Sam was ecstatic while Dean was frowning, taking all the directions to mean that Sam should actually remain in the hospital. How could someone possibly be healthy enough to go home when there were so many instructions to remember to prevent so many things from happening?

"You can slowly begin introducing heavier and more solid foods into your diet but it must be done slowly. Eat three meals a day, _do _not miss a meal. You must drink lots of fluids, water and juices such as orange or apple are best. Once you set up a schedule for your medications, you must _not_ miss any of your meds. They are all important. Your pain meds are the only ones you take when needed. I have supplied you with enough morphine to last you two weeks if you were take some twice a day every day. I do not recommend doing this. Use the morphine only when necessary. We do not want you becoming reliant on it.

"You will have to watch for fever. Moving to a new location may cause some distress in your weakened immune system. Only panic if the fever gets over 104. It can put strain on the heart which is the last thing we want right now. Your heart is too weak to handle it."

"What if that does happen?" Dean said, now terrified about the prospect. Sam had always been prone to fevers.

"You call 911 immediately and do whatever you can to get the fever down," the doctor said. "With the antibiotics I gave you it should prevent any fever from getting that high."

Dean nodded though Sam could see his big brother was still concerned.

"Watch for blood if you cough or vomit and watch for it in your urine. It may indicate your kidneys are having trouble. Only be alarmed if there is an excessive amount. If this happens, go to the hospital immediately." He waited until the brothers nodded in understanding. "Now, is there anyone that will be with you two that can help?"

"Why?" Dean frowned.

"You cannot constantly be with Sam or be watching him. You will need extra help."

"Excuse me, Doc, but I've been taking care of Sam since he was six months old. I am more than capable," Dean argued.

"I'm sure you are but this is not a broken bone or concussion or the flu," the doctor said and Dean's eyes narrowed. If only this guy knew just what he had helped Sam through. "For the first few days, Sam needs twenty-four hour care and close to that amount while he is on bed rest. You need at least one other person to help you."

"You know what I—"

"Dean," Sam said and Dean instantly backed down. The doctor was surprised at the instantaneous effect the young brother seemed to have on the older. "We've got a...friend waiting at our house. He can help. We've got a couple of others we can call as well if needed."

"Your...friend," the doctor said. "He will be able to follow the directions I've given you and be capable of helping you?"

"Yes," Sam said simply. No need for the doctor to know that Kevin was only a high school student, or had been before all the Prophet of the Lord stuff.

The doctor hummed, clearly unsure if he should accept this 'friend', but nodded anyways. "Very well. Make sure he knows _exactly_ what to do and knows your med schedule."

"He will," Sam and Dean said together and looked at each other with grins.

"Try not to get worked up or overexcited or anything that might put extra strain on your lungs. They are still in danger of collapsing if pushed too hard. I've given you an inhaler that can help prevent collapse if you get it in time."

"Are you sure he should be leaving?" Dean interrupted. "I mean, if all these things could happen and happen on a dime, shouldn't he stay in the hospital?"

"There is nothing more we can do for him here. Most people tend to heal better once they return home where they can be comfortable."

"But he—"

"Dean, I'm okay to go home," Sam said. "Besides you'll be there and so will Kevin. We can call Charlie or Garth, keep trying to find Cas. It's not like I'm going to go live in a motel room on my own. I'm going home and I'm going with you."

Dean clenched his jaw, the idea of bringing Sam home going against everything he stood for as a big brother. So many things could go wrong once he brought Sam home and just that was telling him to keep Sam in the hospital. On the other hand, he really wanted to go home and bring Sam home, for it to be the two of them healing and being brothers again. He wanted to finally be able to take care of his little brother again.

"Dean," Sam said quietly and reached out to touch his brother's arm, making Dean look at him. "I want to go home."

Dean stared at Sam, searching his little brother's eyes and then groaned when they took on that typical puppy dog look. Seriously, how did he ever accomplish anything with Sam's ability to completely manipulate him with a look?

"Fine," Dean said and rolled his eyes when Sam's face lit up. "Anything else, Doc?"

"I believe I've covered the main things. The rest is in the pages I gave you. I have given you my number so call if you need anything at all," the doctor said and they nodded. "I am very pleased to see you going home, Sam. There were times I wasn't sure."

"There were times we were all unsure," Sam said.

The doctor nodded. "I have also provided your brother with the number for a highly revered psychiatrist. I encourage you to—"

"Wait, wait, what?" Dean said, flipping viciously to the last page of directions he held. "A psychiatrist?" he said after spotting the number and name. "What the hell does he need a psychiatrist for?"

"I do not know the complete story behind your injuries," the doctor said, speaking to Sam instead of Dean which only caused Dean to get angry. "However, I believe it may be something serious, an illness of some kind. As you have refused all tests except the ones we needed to get you healthy, I do not know what illness you may have. I have been a doctor for many, many years, though, and I know a cancer patient when I see one."

"_Cancer_?!" Dean exploded and Sam winced. "He does not have cancer!"

"Sir, I must ask you to calm down. I realize it is terrible and a hard idea to entertain, but I believe it is what is happening to Sam," the doctor said. "I can call for our resident oncologist or call in one from a more prestigious hospital as we are quite small. Talk to the psychiatrist to help you get through this."

"Listen to me," Dean said and stalked right up to the doctor. "My brother does not have cancer and he does not need a psychiatrist. So you can keep your opinions to yourself unless we ask for them, got it?"

"Sir—"

"No," Dean snapped. "Just stop. If that's all then we're leaving."

The doctor's face hardened. Sam watched as his brother and the doctor just stared at each other. He was starting to fear his brother was about to throw a punch when the doctor nodded and Dean took a couple steps back to return to Sam's bedside. "As I said, the rest of the directions I have given you. Be sure to follow them closely and go to a hospital if anything goes wrong."

Dean gave one short nod and turned to Sam. "Come on, Sam, let's go."

"I'll get him a wheelchair," the doctor said and left the room.

Sam looked at Dean, disapproving. "That was really unnecessary."

"I don't think it was," Dean said with a shrug.

Sam shook his head. "You can't scare the hospital staff."

"I didn't scare him and you said not to scare the nurses."

"When did I say that?"

Dean blinked. "Right, that was in my head back when you were, you know, dying."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You heard my voice inside your head?"

"I always hear your voice inside my head. Why else do I find you extra annoying?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Hearing voices isn't good, Dean," he said with a mock sympathetic smile. "I don't think we're up to handling another one of us going crazy."

"Oh, shut up, Sam," Dean said and Sam laughed. "Seriously though. You're sure you're ready to go home?"

"Definitely sure," Sam said. "I'm tired of the hospital. I just want to be in my own bed again and sleep without a nurse coming in every half hour."

"You do get your own bed but instead of a nurse, you get a brother coming in every half hour," Dean said.

"Maybe I'll stick to the nurses then," Sam said and Dean scowled at him as he grinned. "I mean it though, man. I'm ready to be home." _Ready to be home with you_ was left unsaid but they heard it anyways.

Dean gave him a small smile and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Here we are," the doctor said, pushing a wheelchair in front of him as he entered the room. "Sam, you must let your brother or your friend help you get around. You cannot walk around on your own yet."

"I don't understand why. My legs are perfectly fine," Sam said even as he moved to the edge of the bed and waited for Dean to be ready to help him to the wheelchair.

"Dude, I'm surprised you can move at all due to the fact that your heart, lungs, kidneys, and liver all stopped at some point," Dean said, shoving the instructions back in his pocket and walking up to his brother.

"Plus you have been in bed for over two weeks after very nearly dying," the doctor said. "Your body was under extreme stress when you were brought in. It will be some time before you are back up to full strength even if you feel better now. How far away is your home?"

"A little under four hours," Dean said, handing Sam his jacket.

"Stop each hour so Sam can eat something without the movement of the car and to let him out of the car for a few minutes," the doctor said. "He's going to be very tired once you get home so give him the required medication and then let him sleep for as long as he can."

"You know I'm right here, right?" Sam said irritably.

"We see you, Sammy," Dean said in a voice that suggested his brother was five years old.

"Don't be a jerk," Sam said, glaring at him.

Dean chuckled. "We'll stop, Doc, if just because he's going to be whining the whole drive."

"Dean," Sam said in a childlike voice that made Dean laugh again.

"See?" he said with an amused look at the doctor. "He...de-ages or something when he's sick or drugged."

"Neither of which I am right now, Dean," Sam said.

"Also when he's hurt," Dean added and Sam rolled his eyes with a huff.

"You will be all right?" the doctor said and Dean nodded, his hand on Sam's shoulder and ready to help him off the bed.

"We'll be fine," Dean said. "Thank you, Doc. You saved my brother."

"Just doing my job," the doctor said. "I'm sure you know all about that." He smiled at the hand that had moved from Sam's shoulder to rest on the younger man's back instead as more of a comfort touch than a helping touch.

Sam smiled up at Dean even though his big brother avoided his gaze.

"Well, I will let you get on your way," the doctor said, breaking the chick flick moment as Dean would surely call it once they were alone. "Take care of each other, boys."

Dean snorted. "Boys," he repeated and the doctor smiled. "You're not that much older than us."

"Oh, really? How old would you say I am?"

Dean examined the middle-aged doctor. He looked about the same age as Bobby. "Early fifties. You look around the age a family friend was when he died."

"Close," the doctor said but made no indication of revealing his age. "Either way, you two are only around thirty so I've got at least twenty years on you. Therefore, you are boys."

Sam gave a laugh as Dean just stared at the doctor who smiled before leaving the room with another comment of taking care of each other.

"Well then," Dean said and turned to Sam. "Ready to get out of here?"

"God yes," Sam said and Dean grinned.

Dean made sure the brakes were on on the wheelchair before manoeuvring Sam and himself around. He slid his left arm under Sam's arm and around his back, letting Sam's arm wrap around his neck. His right hand fisted in Sam's shirt and pulled on it at the same time to get Sam to his feet. With the wheelchair so close, all Dean had to do was spin around and lower Sam to the chair. Once Sam was settled, Dean pulled back slightly so he could see Sam's face and he raised an eyebrow.

"And you asked why I have to help you around."

Sam was breathing hard and his face had paled. His eyes were closed as he tried to relax and get his breath back. Dean waited patiently, a hand on the side of Sam's head and his fingers playing with the hair strands. He was being a girl, he knew, but, hey, you try watching your baby brother nearly die in your arms and see how tough you are. So he waited and gave his little brother the comfort he needed. He waited until Sam touched Dean's wrist and opened his eyes.

"Good?" Dean said and Sam nodded, squeezing Dean's wrist before dropping his hand back to his lap. "All right then, here we go." He moved behind the wheelchair and pushed Sam through the hospital. Through the hospital, down the elevator, and out to the parking lot Dean kept up an almost continuous stream of speech, aiming for making Sam laugh. He succeeded nine out of ten times and was pleased with himself. It was good to know he was still capable of making Sam laugh and also that Sam wasn't too traumatized from their life to still laugh especially recently.

They approached their beloved Impala and, even from behind, Dean saw Sam visibly relax. However, Dean hesitated at the passenger's side. He had yet to replace the passenger's side of the car. He had done his best to clean out the blood but it still stained parts of the car. A sheet covered the seat to hide the large blood stains that had refused to come out. He hoped Sam wouldn't notice the stains on the dash and glove box. However, he also hadn't put quite as much effort as he usually would into cleaning the Impala. It had taken him away from Sam's bedside so he refused to be gone for too long, making the cleaning job only halfway decent.

"Dean?"

He looked down at Sam who was looking back at him over his shoulder.

"You okay, man?"

Dean pushed back the memories of his baby brother drowning in blood in the front seat of the Impala. "I'm fine. Come on, time to go home."

He put the brakes on and then walked around to open the door. He made sure the sheet was secure and wouldn't just fall to the floor once Sam was shifted onto it. He glanced at the stained dash and his face tightened but knew there was nothing he could do about it yet. Apparently his examination of the car had taken too long as he soon felt a hand on his back and Sam spoke.

"Seriously, Dean, what's wrong?"

Dean pulled out of the car and looked at Sam, leaning on the open door. He stared at his little brother who looked healthier but still so far from okay. He could still see the blood that drenched his brother, could still remember how he thought Sam couldn't possibly survive losing that much blood. It had surely been all the blood in his body. He closed his eyes against the memories, clenched his right hand in a fist at the remembered feeling of how tight Sam had held onto him.

"Dean."

His eyes opened and met Sam's concerned hazel. He sighed and looked behind Sam at the hospital.

"I, uh, I haven't been able to get all the...blood out of the car," he said. "I've got a sheet on the seat but there's still blood on the floor and the dash. When we get back home and get you settled I'll fix it all but...for now."

"That all?" Sam said, sounding both relieved and amused which made Dean look back at him sharply. "Dean, I'm not going to have a panic attack or anything just because there's a little bit of blood left in the car."

_No, apparently that's me_, Dean mused bitterly.

"Are _you_ okay to get in the car?" Sam said and Dean made himself pull a frown and a scowl.

"Dude, it's my baby. Of course I can get in my own damn car," he scoffed but knew he wasn't fooling his brother when Sam just raised an eyebrow. "Get in said damn car," he grumbled.

* * *

Dean rubbed his eyes and covered a yawn. It was only six in the evening but it had been at least two weeks since he had fully slept. Longer than two weeks if he wanted to be honest. He hadn't slept properly since well before Sam started the trials, always worried that if he went to sleep he would wake up to find Sam had died while he slept. The drive from Stull to Lebanon was also taking longer than it should. They had already passed the five hour mark when, taking the route they were, it should've only taken about three and a half hours. They'd had to stop a couple more times than just once every hour. Sam's leg had started viciously cramping and they'd had to stop so Dean could help massage it. His nose had started bleeding which had freaked out Dean and almost made him turn around until Sam had stopped him, saying it was probably from some of the medication he was on. Once when Sam had drifted off to sleep his breathing had hitched a couple of times which made Dean pull over and shove him awake, fearing his lung was collapsing.

"Dean, I swear to God. Wake me up once more because you think I'm dying and I _will_ punch you in the face," Sam said irritably when Dean shook him awake for the third time, this time because he hadn't been able to see Sam's chest moving in the dark.

"What do you want me to do, Sam? Just wait until we get home to check on you and then find out you had died on the way?"

"No, I'm just saying find another way to make sure I'm alive without waking me up when I'm finally sleeping."

Dean felt guilt sweep over him. He wasn't the only one that hadn't had proper rest for a long time. Sam's sleeping habits had been far worse than his own, the effects of the trials taking their toll. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his little brother sleep and sleep without medication. Now here he was, sleeping again and apparently doing so peacefully. Yet Dean was being a paranoid ass and kept waking him up for stupid reasons every twenty minutes.

"Sam, I—"

"Just don't wake me up until we're home and you're forgiven, all right?"

Dean glanced over at Sam who had a small smile on his face even as he remained curled up against the passenger's door, his eyes closed, Dean's jacket acting as his pillow.

"All right, Sammy," Dean said. He reached into the back seat and grabbed the blanket that was tossed back there. Singlehandedly, he opened the blanket and draped it over his little brother, tucking it over his shoulder. Sam opened his eyes briefly to give him a fond look before returning to his position to sleep, pulling the blanket tight around his body. "Sleep, little brother. We'll be home soon."

Sam let out a quiet breath as he fell back into a restful sleep and gave no indication that he was aware of his big brother running his fingers through his long hair.

* * *

Six hours. A three and a half hour drive had taken six hours. But they were home. Dean directed the Impala to pull into the garage of the Men of Letters' bunker. He killed the engine of his baby and leaned back in his seat with a deep exhale. He sat in the dark with his sleeping brother for a long while, just taking in the fact that he was finally home and was home with a healing baby brother.

He rolled his head on the seat to look over at Sam. He was still sleeping heavily, in the exact same position, and Dean loathed waking him. He had to though. Sam couldn't sleep in the car and he needed his medication for the night. They would start a daily routine tomorrow.

With a sigh he reached over and put a hand on his brother's shoulder, shaking it lightly.

"Sam," he said quietly. "Sammy, we're home, wake up."

Sam groaned and just curled up further making Dean roll his eyes. It was like Sam was five again and refusing to wake up for school.

"Sammy, come on. Time to go inside."

"Bite me," Sam mumbled and Dean chuckled.

"You are such a pain in the ass, Sam." With a shake of his head, Dean took hold of the blanket covering his brother and yanked it off. Sam jumped awake at the abruptness and whipped his head around to look blearily at Dean.

"Damn it, Dean, what did I tell you?" he growled.

"We're home, Sammy, so I did absolutely nothing wrong," Dean said innocently and Sam snorted, sitting up straight and letting Dean's jacket fall into his lap.

"You always do something wrong."

Dean chucked the blanket at Sam's head. "Bitch."

In the process of pulling the blanket off his head, Sam paused, letting the blanket slip off as he stared at his brother. It had been so long since those words had been used, since those affectionate insults had been a comfort. So many things that once showed their love for each other lost over the years.

Perhaps they would be able to get some of those things back.

"Jerk," he returned and Dean grinned.

"Come on, kiddo, time for bed," Dean said, patting Sam's arm and then getting out of the car.

Sam looked down at the jacket in his lap as he waited for Dean to help him out of the car. He'd be annoyed about having to get his brother's help later. For now he was far too tired to care much. He fingered Dean's green jacket. He missed the leather jacket that Dean used to wear before Stull Cemetery, before he had gone to Lisa's. Dean had truly buried everything after being unable to find a way to bring Sam back from Lucifer's Cage. He missed that jacket. He missed the smell of leather and oil and gunpowder, the smells that once allowed him to know the minute it was close enough that Dean was there which meant he was safe. He missed the way Dean used to lay that jacket over him as though it were a sufficient blanket for his six-four frame. It _had_ been a sufficient blanket because it had allowed him to have Dean close. This jacket was good and suited the needs just fine but it wasn't the leather jacket. He missed that jacket.

"Sammy, would you stop molesting my jacket and pay attention?"

Sam looked up from the green jacket at Dean and gave him a look of exasperation. "Trust me, I have no desire to molest anything of yours. Get over yourself."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Then give me my jacket."

Sam unconsciously tightened his hold on the material which got him a smug look from Dean. "Shut up," he muttered.

Dean chuckled. "Come on, Sammy."

Sam moved so his feet were set on the ground and then threw his arm around Dean's neck to stand up. It was a slow shuffle up to the door with both brothers exhausted. It was an even slower trek down the staircase as they took it one step at a time and paused for a few seconds on each step.

"Dean, I—" Sam cut off suddenly as his legs went limp and the unexpected weight nearly brought the both of them down the stairs.

"Sam!" Dean said, catching his little brother and struggling to stay standing. "Sam, come on, help me out here." He glanced at his brother's face as it rested against his shoulder and cursed when he saw that Sam was completely out. "Couldn't wait until we got off the stairs?"

"Dean?"

Dean's head shot up at the voice and spotted Kevin coming towards them from the direction of his bedroom.

"Kevin!" Dean said. "C'mere and help me with the Sasquatch here."

"Is he alright?" Kevin asked, running up to the brothers. He pulled one of Sam's arms around his neck and let his own arm join Dean's around Sam's waist.

"Fell asleep, I think," Dean said and they began to slowly descend the staircase. "Could hardly wake him up to get him out of the car."

"Should he be falling asleep in the middle of walking?" Kevin said, his heart pounding when his foot slipped a bit on the next step.

"Probably not but when was the last time he really slept? Plus I kept waking him up in the car," Dean said and let out a breath when they reached the bottom of the stairs. He couldn't help but grin at Kevin who was wheezing under Sam's weight. "Heavy, isn't he?"

"How do you...do this...alone?" Kevin gasped and Dean chuckled.

"I'm bigger than you for one and I've been taking care of this kid his whole life. I picked up a few things over the years," Dean said, adjusting Sam's arm over his shoulders. "All right, come on. Let's get the giant to his room."

Kevin groaned but braced himself and they made their way through the bunker to Sam's bedroom. He was completely out of breath by the time they reached Sam's room and was beyond relieved when he was able to drop Sam on the bed. He put his hands on his waist, breathing as though he had run three marathons.

Dean looked up from Sam and raised an eyebrow at the Prophet. "Dude, you gonna pass out on me?"

Kevin just waved a hand in Dean's direction, making the man snort. Kevin huffed in his mind. He wasn't athletic, never had been. He had been in advanced placement and then a Prophet of the Lord. None of that required physical strength. So he was winded helping Sam. Sam was huge! Winded was a perfectly natural reaction.

"Kevin, go lay down before you fall on your face," Dean said, amused as he watched Kevin try to recover. He probably shouldn't ask Kevin to help Sam get around. He'd end up coming into a room and find the both of them on the floor.

"I'm...okay, I'm okay," Kevin said, drawing in a deep breath.

"Seriously, Kev, go to bed," Dean said. "Not only do you still look like hell but I don't need help with Sam now. I just have to give him meds and then put him to bed."

"You sure?"

"Are you actually asking?"

"No. Good night!" Kevin said and escaped as Dean laughed.

"It's good to be home, Sammy," he said, turning back to his still sleeping brother. "Stay here. I have to get the bags from the car."

Patting Sam's arm, Dean went back to the garage and snatched the large first aid kit and their duffels from the back seat. Passing his room, he tossed his bag on his bed and then moved next door. Dropping Sam's bag on the floor by the door, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and opened the first aid kit.

It was stuffed with prescription bottles and other first aid items. There were several needles and he saw the little glass bottle of morphine sitting near them. There were three of the little inhalers and he made a note to give the other two to Sam and Kevin. There were several icepacks and a couple heating pads as well.

"We've got a portable pharmacy here, kiddo," Dean said and pulled out the instructions from the doctor. He flipped to the third page where the medication directions started. He placed each bottle on the bedside table as he read up on them, planning to put sticky notes by each bottle to say what the pills were for, their time frame, and what to take them with.

Once the bottles were all lined up on the table he stared at them. There were so many and he almost didn't know where to start. Almost.

"Sam," he said and shook Sam's shoulder. "Wake up, time for meds."

Sam said something unintelligible and turned his head away from Dean.

"Nope, gotta wake up, Sam," Dean said, shaking him again.

"Dean," Sam whined as he turned back to Dean. His eyes opened and glared tiredly at his brother.

"Yeah, I know, now get up," Dean said and began gathering the pills needed at that time. He avoided the ones that had to be taken with food.

Sam sighed and attempted to push himself up to recline against the headboard. He had just managed to succeed when Dean held out a bottle of water and several pills. He groaned at all the pills.

"It's just right now. They'll get more evenly spaced out starting tomorrow," Dean said, knowing he was holding a lot of pills.

"Are you trying to make me overdose?" Sam said even as he took the small pile of pills.

"I would never," Dean said in mock outrage.

Sam rolled his eyes, knocking back the pills and taking a large drink of the water. Dean's eyebrows went up.

"Maybe you should've done that a little slower," Dean said.

Sam shrugged. "Too late."

Dean shook his head with a sigh, taking the water bottle as Sam made moves to lie back down.

"Let's get you comfortable then," Dean said and reached down to take off Sam's shoes.

"Don't undress me. M'not four," Sam said, his eyes flickering as he tried to undress himself.

"Calm down, Sam. I'm undressing you for bed, not giving you a bath," Dean said, dropping Sam's shoes to the floor. "Socks on or off?"

"On," Sam muttered, struggling with his outer button-up shirt.

Dean nodded and moved up. He made quick work of pulling off Sam's jeans to limit his little brother's embarrassment.

"Oh, for the love of—Sam," he said, seeing his nearly asleep brother tangled in his shirt. With an amused expression, Dean helped free Sam and tossed the shirt aside. "All right, into bed."

It was work but he was soon rolling his now sleeping brother under the blankets and unconsciously tucking him in. He made sure Sam was sleeping comfortably before brushing back the long hair and then moving to straighten up. As he gathered Sam's clothes and moved his duffel, he found himself looking around the room. It was bare. There was no indication anyone occupied the room and he frowned.

Sam had been keeping the bunker strictly 'business', unable to make it home when he had no idea how to make a home. Sam's 'home' had been crappy motel rooms and the backseat of a car. He hadn't been able to gather personal possessions growing up and only had about two pairs of jeans, a few shirts, and his fed suit. It was no surprise Sam hadn't done anything with his room the way Dean had in his own. He had nothing to do anything with even if he wanted to and he didn't know _what_ to do.

Dean glanced back at his little brother.

"We're making this your home too, Sammy," he said quietly. "I'm going to finally give you a home."

He grabbed his fallen jacket and draped it over his little brother, watching with a smile as Sam immediately grasped it.

With a last look around the room, he went to pull his pillow and blankets from his own bed and created a makeshift one on the floor beside Sam.

Yeah, Sam was home and healing.

Didn't mean he was leaving Dean's sight.

**To Be Continued...**


	3. Part III

**Summary: Sam's on bed rest for two weeks. Dean has to make sure he sticks to the definition of bed rest in order to avoid jump starting the unstable internal injuries waiting to be jarred inside his brother. Not to mention they've still got a Prophet of the Lord recovering as well.**

**Warnings: Mild language. More brotherly fluff than should be legal**

**Author's Note: Kevin will be a main cast member in this story, just not as big as Sam, Dean, and Castiel. Yes, Castiel is coming, just not quite yet. Enjoy and please review :)**

* * *

**Bed Rest**

"How'd you sleep?" Dean asked as he turned around and noticed Sam was awake and rubbing his eyes.

"Alright, I guess," Sam said, moving around so he was sitting up. "Woke up a couple times with my back or stomach hurting a little."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Dean said, turning away from the wall that separated his room from Sam's.

"You needed to sleep too," Sam said. "It wasn't bad, just a little aching, and it was only for a few minutes. I think it's just from being stuck in bed for days."

"Still got another ten days, Sammy, get used to it," Dean said and touched his phone screen when an alarm began to go off.

"Can I at least go to the library or living room sometimes?" Sam said. "I cannot stare at these walls for another ten days."

"That's because you've got nothing on them. You gotta decorate, make it _your_ place," Dean said, trying to subtly push Sam into admitting things he wanted in his room.

Sam shrugged. "It's fine like this. It's just a room. I only use it to sleep so it doesn't matter much."

Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling. _Help me not smack my injured little brother_. "Sam, it's your bedroom. You gotta make it comfortable, somewhere you want to be."

"Dean, leave it," Sam said, shutting the topic down for the moment.

Dean sighed. "Fine. We'll see about getting you to the library tomorrow. It's closer."

Sam nodded but didn't respond except to ask, "What are you doing?" He gestured to the tape measure in Dean's hand.

"Measuring the wall," Dean said simply. "Have to know the size doors I gotta get."

"What?" Sam frowned.

"I'm knocking this wall down and putting in a door," Dean said.

"You were serious about that?" Sam said in surprise, vaguely remembering Dean suggesting they joined their rooms with sliding doors.

"Course I was serious," Dean said. "We'll still have our own rooms but can get to each other faster and can hear if something's wrong."

Sam still looked at him in surprise. Dean had always wanted his own room, Sam knew that. The way Dean had reacted when he chose his room had said as much. Yet Dean was joining their rooms. Sure there would be a door separating them but they would essentially be back to sharing a room. Why?

"Separate rooms are overrated," Dean said, shaking out some of Sam's pills. "Med time. Morning med time anyways."

Sam watched his brother and smiled slightly. He knew the reason for removing the wall. Dean would forever take care of his little brother.

"What time is it?" he asked instead of commenting and bringing about a chick flick moment that would make Dean scoff.

"Nine," Dean said, dropping the various pills in Sam's hand. "Aside from the fact you apparently woke up, you slept about ten and a half hours."

"Still not a normal sleep pattern then," Sam said, swallowing his pills.

"Right now I don't care. You're sleeping, that's all I want," Dean said. "You've got a lot to catch up on. We'll work on a pattern later, after you're better and not on bed rest."

"I'm fine now," Sam argued.

"You are not," Dean said and Sam glared. "Humour me?"

"No," Sam said. "I have no energy to argue, though, so fine. For now."

Dean smirked smugly and Sam rolled his eyes. "Hungry?" he said.

"Not really."

"No choice."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Thought you might answer correctly but you failed."

"Must you be irritating?" Sam said and Dean grinned.

"Of course. I'm the big brother. It's part of the job description as you know perfectly well," Dean said.

Sam huffed. "I think you use that to justify far too many things. I'm pretty sure being a big brother does not explain or exempt you from as many things as you say it does."

"That's because no one else knows how to do it properly," Dean said casually, going to the doorway to look into the hall for Kevin.

Sam stared at Dean's back, the words echoing in his head and making his expression soften into a small smile. He doubted Dean really knew what he had said but Sam knew and it created a warm glow inside, not for him—not completely—but for his big brother. Growing up in a nomadic lifestyle meant they had seen probably every type of person and family in existence. Sam could recall the hundreds of sets of brothers he had encountered in all his schools and places of residence. Most siblings pretended the other didn't exist if they attended the same school, fought constantly (not that he and Dean didn't), and generally did not seem to want to acknowledge their siblings.

He remembered at one of his elementary schools, he had made friends with another boy who also had an older brother that was the same age as Dean. At lunch time, Sam had spotted Dean in the lunchroom with another older boy and Dean had grinned and immediately gone to join Sam. The other boy turned out to be the older brother of Sam's friend and, while Dean sat next to Sam, the other boy sneered.

"What are you doing with these dorks, Dean?"

Dean's face had hardened as he looked at the boy. "Sam's my brother."

"I'm his brother!" Sam's friend had said, pointing to Dean's friend.

Dean's friend had glared at his little brother. "No, you know the rules. While on school property and in public places that are not our house, we do not know each other. Remember?"

Sam's friend had sighed and nodded, looking a little upset but mostly accepting. Sam remembered frowning and looking at Dean who was also frowning while scowling at his friend.

"Come on, Dean. Don't you get enough of your brother at home? Why do you want to spend any more time than you absolutely have to with him, especially at school when you've got your friends?"

Dean's jaw clenched. "I happen to like my brother. I happen to enjoy that he exists. I happen to like spending time with him, at home and at school and everywhere else. I think I should be asking why you would want to miss any time with your brother."

The other boy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. Do what you want with the loser."

And then the kid was on the floor with a bloody nose. Dean was calmly sitting back down beside Sam and drawing them into the world they always went in that existed of just the two of them.

Sam had never met another set of brothers or siblings in general that seemed to genuinely care about each other and want to spend time together. Sure there were some who liked each other, maybe nodded to each other in the hallway or said a few words here and there, but it was nothing like what he and Dean had.

He had never seen another older sibling ditch a math test in grade ten to crash his little brother's gym class where they were playing basketball to make his little brother laugh and forget he was truthfully too short for the sport. He had never seen another older sibling hover outside his little brother's classroom giving him silent support as his little brother nervously completed his first ever high school exam. He had never seen another older sibling sit in the mud puddle his little brother had been shoved into (after decking the ones who did it) just to make his little brother laugh and forget his embarrassment and tears. He had never seen another older sibling shave off one spot of hair on the side of his head to match his little brother's after his little brother had to get it shaved to get minor head surgery.

He had never seen another Dean.

Because there was only one Dean and he belonged to Sam.

"You always did enjoy ignoring me, Sammy."

Sam shook himself and looked up at Dean who was standing at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in amusement. He smiled at his big brother cockily.

"You make it so easy," Sam said and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

The insults that were terms of endearment had returned to them easily and both relished in the recovered aspect of their once so broken relationship. They knew they were far from okay in probably every sense of the word since there were still so many things they had to fully address and sort out. However, they also knew they had to take time to heal and settle into a different life, or different stage in their life, while also reconnecting. Their plan to go back to basics still had to be discussed at length but it would appear that the plan would also allow for their nearly destroyed brotherhood to heal as well.

"So Kevin's sleeping," Dean said. "Still or again, not sure which. I'll get him up later so he can actually eat something today. As for us, you are awake which means it's time to eat."

Sam sighed. "I'm still not hungry, you know."

Dean imitated Sam's sigh. "You still don't have a choice, you know."

Sam gave one of his bitch faces which did nothing but make Dean laugh and realize how much he had missed being able to receive one of those looks and not take it to mean they were about to having a screaming match where horrible things were said.

"Fine," Sam said, resigning himself to having to eat if just to make Dean happy. "What's for breakfast?"

"Porridge," Dean said and Sam pulled a face. "Slowly reintroduce solids, Sammy."

"I know but you know I hate porridge," Sam said.

"You hate the porridge I was forced to make in crappy motel rooms or abandoned houses," Dean said. "You have yet to have proper porridge."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "'Proper porridge'?" he repeated.

Dean nodded. "With substance and flavour and everything."

Sam chuckled. "I'm wondering if I should trust your cooking skills."

"Hey!" Dean said, pretending to be offended. "I've been feeding you your whole life and you're still alive."

"That's because it would've been the food itself that poisoned me, not you."

"Yet neither ever happened," Dean said smugly.

Sam had to concede that point. "Alright, fine. I'll have this wonderful porridge you seem to have hidden away. If I get poisoned, it's on you."

Dean grinned. "Deal. Wait here."

Sam watched Dean leave the room with a condescending expression. "Where am I going to go?" he said deadpanned.

* * *

Dean frowned as he opened the fridge and cupboards to find all nearly empty. He needed to make a run to the store and stock up on food, but he refused to leave Sam. It had only been five days since they had been home which meant Sam had five more days of bed rest. Sam was, naturally, getting extremely restless and frustrated from being trapped in bed and from still being so ill and weak.

They had had a scare the day before when Sam suddenly spiked a fever of 102 and threw up, blood staining what he expelled. Dean had also had a heart attack their second night back in the bunker when he woke up and found he couldn't hear Sam breathing. Turning on the light had shown Sam to be pale, his lips blue, and his chest unmoving. Panicking, he had immediately begun CPR despite knowing he should've called 911. After a few agonizing moments, Sam had finally drawn a shuddering breath. Dean hadn't slept the rest of the night nor had his hand left its place on Sam's chest.

Dean knew he shouldn't have expected Sam to be better the moment they returned home and he hadn't, not really. He had been hopelessly optimistic that he wouldn't have to suffer through watching Sam possibly die again. Apparently, that was not to be and he wondered just how bad things would get again before Sam would finally start healing for good.

Sam was sleeping now after a rough night of nightmare after nightmare. He had sweated, shook, and cried through the night, never letting Dean out of touching distance. He had gotten clingy but Dean had said nothing. He was pretty sure Sam was allowed to be clingy. He was throwing away the no chick flick rule for the foreseeable future anyways.

He paused in his inspection of the empty cupboards and listened. For a couple of minutes there was nothing but then he heard a muffled shuffling and a quiet thump.

"Sam, if you are an inch out of that bed, injured and sick or not, I _will_ knock you out and tie you to the bed!" Dean called out and then waited, listening hard. He smirked when he heard a mutter that he couldn't make out and then the squeak of Sam's bed springs. "That's what I thought!"

He shook his head and closed the cupboard, turning to lean his back against the counter. He crossed his arms and contemplated the situation. They needed food badly if just because Sam could not miss a single meal.

_Speaking of which, it's almost time for supper_, Dean said, glancing at the digital clock on the stove.

So they needed food but there was no way in hell he was leaving Sam. There was Kevin but he wasn't sure it was a good idea to send the kid out alone. No matter the plan, Kevin was still the Prophet of the Lord and was on everyone's hit list the way the Winchesters were. They had no idea what had happened to Crowley after being left behind in the church but he was surely still after Kevin. Abaddon would be after Kevin as well if just for the hell of it, to be able to say she had killed the Prophet and friend of the Winchester brothers. The Angels, well, he wasn't sure about them.

He tapped his fingers against his bicep and bit his lip.

"_Send Kevin to the damn store_!"

Dean huffed at Sam's yell, ignoring how it still sounded so weak. Even with all their issues, even with everything that had come between them over the last several years, they still knew each other well enough that they didn't have to even be in the same room to know what the other was brooding about. Not that he was brooding. He was...contemplating, analyzing the situation.

He was just considering the possibility of calling Charlie or Garth to see how close they were when Kevin wandered out of his bedroom. He was finally looking better after being able to properly sleep and eating normal, nutritional meals. Since he had just woken up after another twelve hour sleep, his hair was a disaster, his eyes were half closed, there were still little circles under his eyes, and his feet were shuffling.

Right, and Sam wanted to send this kid shopping?

"Mornin'," Kevin muttered, heading directly for the coffee machine.

Dean raised an eyebrow and tried to hide a grin. "It's five-thirty in the evening, Kev."

Kevin blinked at him, his expression blank and uncomprehending for some time before he sniffed and shrugged.

"Mornin' t'me," he said and proceeded to fill a coffee cup with hot black coffee.

Dean watched as he drained the steaming liquid, not seeming to even burn his mouth at all, and then pour another cup that he then sipped at.

"How's Sam?" Kevin asked, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Could be better, could be worse," Dean said vaguely. It wasn't Sam's best day but it wasn't his worst yet either.

Kevin nodded, draining another mouthful of coffee.

Dean stared at him, silently musing over whether they were desperate enough for food to send Kevin out on his own. Kevin shifted uncomfortably under the stare, his eyes flickering between Dean and his coffee. After a long few minutes of this, Kevin finally gave in.

"What?" he said. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Would you feel up to doing something for me?" Dean said.

"Is it going to make me collapse into an exhausted heap?" Kevin said and Dean snorted.

"It shouldn't. If it does there's something wrong with you," Dean said and Kevin shrugged one shoulder, taking another drink.

"I'm friends with you and Sam and am pretty much voluntarily living with you. There's something wrong with all of us," Kevin said. "The Prophet says to the vessels of Archangels and legacies of the Men of Letters."

Dean chuckled at the absurdity of Kevin's words. "Yeah, yeah, our lives are a freak show. You get used to it."

"Two years, dude," Kevin said. "I think I'm used to it."

Dean laughed again.

"So what do you need?" Kevin asked, bringing them back on track.

"We're out of food," Dean said bluntly and Kevin's eyebrows rose to his hairline.

"I noticed."

"Do you think you can handle going to the store?" Dean said. "I would but..."

"I know, Sam," Kevin said and swallowed the last drink of his coffee. "Yeah, I'll go. Anything specific?"

"Not really. Stuff Sam can handle. He's still being eased back onto solid food," Dean said.

"You make it sound like he's a baby eating solid food for the first time."

"_I heard that! If I could I would punch you, Kevin_!"

Dean and Kevin laughed. Dean pulled out his wallet and handed the few twenties he had to Kevin.

"Go nuts, Kev," Dean said and Kevin waved as he walked up the stairs and disappeared out the door.

Once he heard the door's lock bolt shut, Dean left the kitchen to check on Sam. The kid should really be sleeping and not yelling throughout the bunker when he could hardly breathe on a good day. He stopped in the doorway of Sam's room when he saw Sam sitting on the edge of the bed, apparently attempting to get to his feet. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, deciding to see how far Sam would go.

It was clear that just moving to the edge of the bed had stolen most of Sam's limited energy as he sat there with his head down and his hands on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath. Eventually he put his palms on the bed on either side of him and tried to push himself up. It took much longer than it should've and a lot more work than it should've, but he was eventually standing albeit extremely shakily.

"Hey, Sammy."

He winced as Sam spun around, causing his legs to give out and send him crashing to the floor. Sam groaned as his still sore and weakened body hit the stone floor. Shaking his head, Dean walked over to his little brother and stared down at him.

"You know, I should leave you here," Dean said.

Sam stared up at Dean, purposely intensifying the puppy dog eyes that had come out. "But you won't, right?"

Dean's eyes narrowed and then rolled up to the ceiling. "Such a bitch," he muttered and walked over to his little brother who grinned at him. He knelt down and started to move Sam around so he could get a careful but firm grip on his brother. Sam's arm jerked in his grip but he ignored it. Sam continued to have the occasional tremor ever since he stopped the third trial. They had happened often in the hospital and the doctor had said they would eventually stop.

Sam's arm jerked again...and then again...and again. Then Sam's entire body went rigid before violently convulsing.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, nearly dropping Sam back to the floor as his brother's convulsions made it impossible to hold on. He stared at Sam in horror as the seizure continued and he did the best he could to make it more bearable. He turned Sam onto his side and changed position, moving up to Sam's head to let it rest in lap. He held Sam's head still and leaned over to use his other arm to hold Sam's torso a bit more stable.

He ducked his head down so he could whisper reassurances to Sam even though he didn't know if his brother could hear him. Sam continued to shake and jerk, and when Dean spotted the blood coming from both Sam's nose and the corner of his mouth he started to really panic.

"Sam!" he yelled, clenching his jaw as the seizure showed no signs of easing. "Come on, Sammy, don't do this! Sammy!"

He worried about the strain the seizure was putting on Sam's weakened heart and lungs and...hell, everything. He was cursing the doctor who hadn't said a thing about Sam having seizures.

And then it stopped. Sam's body fell limp and his chest jumped with hard, sporadic breaths. Tears had fallen during the seizure and were completing their trek down his cheeks, leaving behind damp lines. He was covered in sweat and his eyes remained closed with exhaustion.

Dean stayed silent as he held Sam and tried to move past what they had just gone through. He was going to kill that doctor. The minute he was able to leave Sam alone without worry—well, without more worry than normal—he was going to go back to Stull and kill that doctor. How could he not mention even the slightest possibility of Sam having seizures, even just one?

He let his eyes close for a few moments and lowered his head further to let his forehead rest against the side of Sam's. His hand rubbed Sam's arm and the fingers of his other twined in his little brother's long hair. He took the time to calm his own breathing while listening to Sam's.

He had no idea how long they had been on the floor but his legs were going numb and his back was aching by the time he straightened up. Sam was still and his eyes still shut, but his breathing had evened out at some point and was no longer gasping pants.

"Sammy?" he said quietly and couldn't stop his small smile when Sam's head immediately twitched in the direction of his voice. He ran his hand through his brother's hair. "Can you move?"

Sam's hand, which had somehow found its way onto Dean's leg, flexed, his fingers catching in Dean's jeans.

"Come on, Sammy, we can't stay on the floor."

Sam groaned and was anything but helpful as Dean struggled to pull Sam up and onto the bed. Dean let out a breath as he finally got his not so little brother settled on the bed.

"I still don't understand how this happened," Dean said, waving his hand over Sam's body even though Sam's eyes weren't open to see. "We had a crappy diet so how the hell did you get so goddamn tall and heavy?"

Shaking his head, he worked to get Sam underneath the covers, leaving the blanket down at his waist so he could change his brother's sleep shirt. In a clean, dry shirt, he pulled the blankets up to Sam's chin and, though he would forever deny it, tucked the sheets around his brother.

He gazed down at his baby brother, brushing back the damp, shaggy hair. How long would they have to do this? Was he deluding himself into thinking Sam would get better? There really hadn't been any signs that Sam was any better than before they had left the hospital. But Sam had to get better, it was Sam. Dean had lived without his little brother once; he refused to do it again.

"Think you'll finally listen to me and stop trying to get out of bed?" Dean said absently, not really expecting an answer but got one regardless.

"No," Sam mumbled and Dean laughed lightly.

"Go to sleep," Dean said. "We'll talk later. It's fine if you're a little late taking your meds tonight. You're doing better."

"Am I?" Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, you are," Dean said, realizing he believed it. "It's not obvious and it's taking a long time, but you'll be better one day. Promise."

"Okay." In his exhausted state with lingering fear from the seizure, Sam was content to just accept whatever Dean was saying as true. He relaxed into the mattress (that Dean swore he was going to replace) and pillows, and let himself drift off, safe in the knowledge that his big brother was there.

* * *

Sam slowly woke up to the sound of Dean yelling, or at least talking loudly and angrily. He blinked away the remaining sleep and looked around for his brother. His room was empty and the door nearly shut. Through the crack he saw his brother walk by and then walk by again the other way. Still feeling exhausted, Sam just lay in his bed with his eyes halfway between open and closed and listened to his brother.

"How could you not say anything? No! No, you didn't tell us...I don't care! You remember he almost died, right? A seizure! He had a freakin' seizure which we weren't prepared for because _you_ didn't tell us he could have one! Why the hell wouldn't you mention seizures? Not once did the word even think of coming out of your mouth! You said he was fine to come home but to monitor strain on his heart and lungs and things, yet he didn't know to watch for that strain coming from a goddamn seizure! Yeah, that's what I thought! Anything else you conveniently forgot to tell me about my brother?! There better not be or I swear I'm coming after you!"

There was a small, quiet beep to indicate Dean had hung up his phone. Sam moved his head just enough to be able to see the door as it opened to admit Dean.

"Hey, you're awake," Dean said, going to the bedside table to gather the next round of medication. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired," Sam said. "Really tired. Body's sore too."

"I bet. Seizure was pretty bad," Dean said, his face tight at the memory.

"Don't really remember," Sam said, just giving his brother a tired look when Dean held out the handful of pills.

"Have to take them, Sam," Dean said. "I let you off last night but you have to take them now."

"Don't wanna move," Sam said, clutching onto the pillow beneath his head.

Dean chuckled, placing the pills on the table so he could help his brother. "I know. Just for a little bit, kid, long enough for pills and food."

"Not hungry," Sam said, slowly moving around to try and sit up.

"You can say that every time, I'm still making you eat," Dean said, pulling Sam up and then arranging the pillows so Sam could be reclining. "Kevin got food so you can have more than porridge today."

"Something solid?" Sam said, reaching out for the pills and glass of water that forever remained next to his bed.

"Porridge is solid," Dean protested.

"Hardly."

"Hey, you haven't actually complained about my porridge so shut up," Dean said and Sam smiled. He downed the pills, noticing there was a pill to relieve him of pain for a few hours. "How about scrambled eggs and try some toast?"

Sam sighed. "Sure, I'll take it."

"Not that you have a choice."

"Not that I have a choice," Sam repeated and Dean chuckled.

"Gonna fall asleep on me if I leave you here while I make food?"

"Are you giving me the choice of leaving this room?"

Dean scoffed. "Who are you kidding?" Sam rolled his eyes even though he had to admit he was far too tired to try get out of bed. "No, just wondering if I should get Kevin in here to irritate you."

"Kevin doesn't irritate me," Sam said.

"He might now," Dean said. "We thought he was crazy while working on the tablets? Turns out he's crazier not working on the tablets. Mind has too much time to wander."

Sam laughed and then proceeded to cough harshly, the strain making his already sore chest pound and ache. Hands were on his chest and back and he tried to take breaths to calm down. It took some time but soon the coughing stopped and he collapsed back on his pillows. He let his eyes focus on Dean when a light palm landed on his face, the fingers buried in his long hair.

"Sammy, you okay?"

Still catching his breath, Sam reached out and touched Dean's knee to let his brother know he was fine or as fine as he usually was these days given the circumstances. Dean's hand fell to cover his and squeezed lightly, making Sam's lips twitch into a small smile.

Without sounding incestuous and creepy, the two of them—mostly Dean—had become much more physical since the end of the trials. Dean was tactile with him, always finding some reason to initiate contact. He had found it strange at first and the oddness still crossed his mind sometimes since Dean had never been an emotional or physical person. However, Sam thought he understood now. What had happened between them in the church was the closest and most honest they had been with each other in years. They were brothers again, brothers that just wanted to make each other proud and get back their once close relationship that had rendered them nearly inseparable all their life.

They had also come to realize that, despite everything, they still trusted each other. Dean trusted Sam to...be Sam. He trusted Sam to be able to take care of himself, trusted Sam to back him up, trusted Sam to be his little brother. He trusted Sam to be who he was and not the evil Antichrist or epic failure that the rest of the world, including their father, had always told him he was. He trusted Sam to trust in his brother. Sam trusted Dean and proved it by not finishing the third trial despite being prepared to die if it meant they could close the gates of Hell. He trusted Dean to want him alive even if it meant the world ended. He trusted that Dean did not believe he was evil. He trusted that Dean cared and loved him no matter what and he had nothing to prove to his big brother. He trusted Dean to raise him and take care of him despite being a thirty year old man. Three, thirty, or ninety-three, he would always need his big brother and he trusted that Dean knew that now.

They trusted each other to be brothers again.

"Sam, you good?"

Sam finally opened his eyes and looked at his clearly worried brother. "I'm good," he said with a smile. He tolerated it as his brother stared at him, visually examining him for anything that might indicate he was anything less than 'good'. Eventually Dean nodded and stepped back.

"I'm going to get Kevin in here so he can keep an eye on you—"

"Dude, I'm thirty."

"—and I'm going to make us all breakfast. Kevin hasn't eaten yet today either."

Sam rolled his eyes but nodded. He was still exhausted but he wasn't about to drop off to sleep at a moment's notice. He didn't get to say anything else as Dean left the room to retrieve Kevin.

"Oh, come on, man, do you know what time it is?" he heard Kevin say and he grinned.

"Kevin, it's eleven-thirty in the morning," Dean said. "It's time to get up."

"Thought you guys wanted me to get better."

"We do but it's time to get back on a regular sleep schedule."

"Sam's not on one yet."

"Sam almost died."

There was just muffled grumbling as a response and Sam chuckled, watching as Dean shoved a sleepy and irritated Kevin into his bedroom.

"Morning, Kevin," Sam said and Kevin just glared at him.

"Dean, he looks fine. Why am I here?"

"To keep him awake so he can eat before going back to sleep," Dean said.

"Dude, just bring him to the stupid kitchen and watch him yourself. He's your brother," Kevin snapped and Sam raised an eyebrow, sure he knew what was about to happen.

Dean stepped up to Kevin and glared down at him. Luckily, the kid had been involved with them for two years and pretty much living with them for a year so he was used to the way the Winchesters were. He knew of their tempers, their sarcasm, their potentially violent sides, and their protectiveness of each other. As such, in the face of Dean's imminent rant, Kevin just stared at him.

"Listen to me. Sam almost _died_. He had pretty much everything in his body fail and lost basically all of his blood. He spent three days fighting to just get out of the ICU. He then spent fifteen more days fighting to stay alive long enough to be able to go home. He has to be on bed rest for two weeks in order to try and prevent any of those organs from failing again or causing internal bleeding. He still has four days left. He just had a goddamn seizure, a seizure which we had no idea he could have. He is going to stay in bed until he is cleared to leave it. Because I happen to care if my brother stays alive or not, you are going to sit in here and keep him company while I make breakfast. Got it?"

"Yeah," Kevin said. "I got it."

"Good."

Dean glared at the Prophet again, glanced at Sam who just raised an eyebrow again, and then stomped from the room. Kevin watched him go and then gazed around the room before looking at Sam. He'd hardly seen the youngest Winchester despite the fact that he had just been down the hall for the past week and a half. Honestly, Sam looked like absolute hell. He really did look like he had almost died.

"You look awful," Kevin said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

Sam let out a laugh. "I can imagine. You're looking better at least."

"Could be better if I could sleep," Kevin muttered.

"It's not just about me, you know," Sam said and Kevin snorted. "He cares about you too. He wants you to get back to normal, well, as normal as you can get at this point. He's starting with proper food and sleep schedules. He will back off eventually."

"Yeah, when?" Kevin said with a pointed look.

"About thirty years," Sam said and Kevin huffed a laugh. "For you anyways."

"Yeah, there's no backing off in view for you," Kevin said and Sam shook his head, laughing.

"I've handled thirty years. I'm sure I can handle thirty more," Sam said.

The two sat and talked while they waited for Dean to return. Sam outlined the basic idea that he and Dean had for their lives, telling Kevin how they planned to just be hunters again and pull out of the Angel and Demon crap. He asked Kevin what his plans were since they refused to let him kill himself over the Angel and Demon tablets when they didn't need them anymore. Kevin admitted that he truly had no idea what he was going to and that he'd hardly thought about it. He'd been more focused on eating and sleeping again. Sam made sure to assure him that he had a home there in the bunker and didn't have to worry about ever leaving if he didn't want to. Kevin just smiled and muttered a 'thanks'.

They looked up when Dean returned carrying a tray of breakfast foods. He put the tray on Sam's lap and then took a bowl of porridge and thrust it at Kevin. Sam winced in sympathy. Porridge was the breakfast punishment. If you don't want porridge, don't piss Dean off. Kevin took it with a scowl. Dean's porridge was good but it wasn't bacon or eggs or pancakes or sausage. Dean took the third plate from the tray that had two pieces of toast, a pile of scrambled eggs, and two sausages, leaving Sam with the plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast.

Dean sat on the opposite side of the bed as Kevin and dug into his food, ignoring the way Sam stared at him and the way Kevin poked irritably at his porridge.

There was some tension in the air but Sam couldn't help but be amused at Kevin's annoyed expression and Dean's silence. It was like a parent and child fighting, the parent mad and the child brooding and pouting.

With a quiet snort and a grin he did nothing to hide, Sam started to slowly eat his own breakfast while watching the others, fighting not to laugh at each scowl Kevin sent Dean.

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Part IV

**Summary: Sam and Kevin are still healing, there's been no word on Cas, and Dean has to figure it all out while dealing with Sam's unexpected Trial traumas. Apparently the hunting community is asking questions as well and awaiting responses.**

**Warnings: Mild language. Fluff. OOC-ness in regards to Dean at the end of the chapter. Some spoilers for various episodes and seasons, mostly Season 4 and Season 5.**

**Author's Note: Dean is out of character at the end of this chapter but I like to think in their situation he'd be a little different. He might be a little more open, particularly with Sam to help him. Please review :)**

* * *

**Responsive & Unresponsive**

"Hey, you guys went up against Samhain? Like, for real?" Kevin said, looking up from the journal Dean had kept on his and Sam's experiences with the supernatural. While he had no interest or desire to become a hunter, Kevin _was_ interested in the things the Winchesters had faced. Besides, Dean had given Kevin his journal and the journal of John Winchester so Kevin assumed he was allowed to ask questions.

He was sitting in the living area that was attached to the kitchen with Sam while Dean made sandwiches. Sam was off bed rest now and had been for four days. He was still extremely weak, however, and could not walk anywhere without help. So it was never surprising to see Dean glued to Sam's side or not far away.

He looked over at Sam who was curled up on one of the sofas, huddled under a large, fluffy blanket as he flipped through TV channels. He couldn't help but compare this Sam to the Sam he had met back in his room when all he was was an advanced placement student in high school. That Sam had stood tall, strong, powerful, and confident. That Sam had been so...intimidating yet counteracted his appearance with his quiet, kind words and poorly concealed amusement at Kevin's initial reaction to the brothers and Dean's reaction to Kevin. The guy was huge and one of the best hunters in the world and had literally been the chew toy and punching bag for the Devil, yet sometimes he was nothing more than a young man wanting to fit in and find friends and make his big brother proud.

This Sam was still all of those things but in different ways. He tried to stand tall and Kevin knew he would if the trials hadn't weakened him so. This Sam _was_ strong and powerful because he had taken on the freakin' _Trials of God_, had stopped the final trial, and had survived. This Sam was strong and powerful because he was still fighting to stay alive and, from what Sam had said, was bailing on the Angels and Demons when it should be an impossible thing to do. This Sam _was_ confident, confident he would survive, could get his relationship with Dean back, could get out of the world of Angels and Demons, could move on from all that had happened to him, could help his friends.

Maybe there wasn't much to compare. This Sam and that Sam...they were still all Sam.

"Samhain?" Dean said and Kevin looked over at the oldest Winchester. "Wow, that was...how long ago was that, Sammy?"

"The year you came back from Hell," Sam said. "When we met Cas."

"Right," Dean said. "So about five years ago, maybe close to six. That was when Cas was a dick like the rest of the Angels. He and his buddy Uriel had apparently been given orders to wipe the town off the map to stop Samhain from rising."

"Why?" Kevin said.

"The summoning of Samhain was one of the Sixty-Six Seals that Lilith was breaking to release Lucifer," Sam said quietly.

Kevin blinked at the absurdity. "There are so many things in that sentence that should not be mentioned in normal, civilized conversation."

Sam chuckled and then turned into his blanket as he coughed. Kevin watched worriedly.

"Sam?" Dean said when the coughing died down a little.

"Fine," Sam said, clearing his throat. "I'm fine. No blood, no pain."

"Good," Dean said. "Anyways, we convinced—or we thought we convinced—Cas and Uriel to let us deal with the witch that was going to summon Samhain. We failed to stop him rising but we did stop him even if it was too late. The seal had been broken already."

"How did you stop him?" Kevin asked.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh, I was hopped up on demon blood at the time and using my psychic powers. I exorcised him and sent him back to Hell."

Kevin bit his lip. He hadn't heard much about those days, the year Dean returned from Hell, they met Cas, tried to stop Lilith, and the whole Ruby-Sam relationship. He knew the basics. Sam and Dean's relationship had been nearly destroyed because of Sam's dealings with Ruby and his demon blood addiction and Dean's lies about Hell. Dean had turned to Cas as he and Sam grew further apart. They were led to believe that killing Lilith would stop the rise of Lucifer but Ruby had lied and manipulated Sam into completing the breaking of the 66 Seals, releasing Lucifer from the Cage.

From what Kevin understood, it had been one of their worst years, filled with nothing but lies, fights, and anger.

Looking at them now, five years later, it was almost impossible to tell that they had gone through such hardships in their relationship. They looked like brothers again that were leaning on each other because they had no one else. They didn't look like they had both almost destroyed their brotherhood at one time or another and Kevin was glad for it.

"You guys have insane stories," Kevin said and the brothers laughed. He turned back to the journal, just smiling at Dean when he was handed a regular ham and cheese sandwich. Dean sat on the sofa with Sam, talking to him quietly before turning to the TV as well.

It was quiet except for the TV and the turning of pages. Kevin read through the information and story Dean had written on Rawheads and he cringed. He glanced at Dean as though he needed to reassure himself that Dean had not, in fact, succumbed to the injuries gained from his fight with the Rawhead. He couldn't help but grin a little at Dean's note at the bottom of the page.

_Do not use taser while standing in water!_

He took a bite of his sandwich and turned the page to read about Tricksters.

"What's the story behind the Trickster?" Kevin said and raised an eyebrow when Sam and Dean laughed again.

"We eventually found out that it wasn't actually a Trickster," Sam said. "It was actually Gabriel, the Archangel. He took a...liking to us."

"Maybe to you," Dean said. "I'm the one he killed over and over for a hundred Tuesdays."

"I'm the one who had to watch you die over and over for a hundred Tuesdays. You don't even remember it," Sam said.

"What?" Kevin said, completely confused.

Sam chuckled again. "The first time we faced him, he played us against each other. Did little things that we blamed on each other and made us fight so we wouldn't actually be able to work on the case. Bobby helped us figure it out."

"Then he put us, well, Sam in a time loop," Dean said. "It was forever Tuesday and I continuously died."

"What the hell kind of prank is that?" Kevin said, horrified.

"It was supposed to be a lesson," Sam said. "It was before Dean went to Hell and it was supposed to teach me that I couldn't save him and trying as hard as I was to save him would only kill me. Even when I got him to stop the time loop, Dean died except for good. He was dead for six months and then I found the Trickster again and made him turn it all back."

"Good God," Kevin muttered. "What an ass."

"Y'think?" Dean said. "The next time he stuck us in TV Land. We had to go through all these cheesy roles on sitcoms and cop dramas and commercials. This was during the Apocalypse year and it was supposed to teach us to step up and play the role destiny set for us. We told him to suck it."

"That's also when we found out he wasn't a Trickster. Cas figured it out, said the guy had too much power for a Trickster," Sam said. "We trapped him and he told us he was Gabriel."

"Another dick with wings," Dean said, finishing off his sandwich.

"You know, despite everything he did, he wasn't as bad as some of the Angels we've dealt with. He was kind of decent," Sam said and Dean snorted. "He did die saving our lives and trying to stop his brother."

"I like to think his bad outweighed his good," Dean said petulantly and Sam smiled, shaking his head.

"The guy died for us, dude, after something you told him," Sam said. "You're the one who told him to stand up to his family and he did to try and help us."

"Sam, shut up. I want to stick to my belief that he was a dick with wings," Dean said.

Sam huffed in amusement and looked at Kevin. "We've never dealt with a real Trickster but all that information is right. Our Trickster just happened to be an Archangel with too much time on his hands. He wasn't the worst Angel we dealt with. I think Zachariah was actually the worst, even worse than Raphael, Michael, and Lucifer."

"Now _he_ was a massive dick with wings," Dean said. "It made me very happy to stab him in the face."

"You _had_ told him you would," Sam said, smiling at Dean's pleased expression.

"The moron didn't believe me," Dean said, shaking his head as though it was a shame Zachariah hadn't believed his threat.

Kevin shook his head. It was certainly never boring with the Winchesters around and their stories were extremely interesting and usually amusing.

"So, um, Cas," Kevin said awkwardly. "Do-do you think he's, uh, you know..."

Sam and Dean sighed.

"It's possible," Sam said. "We're hoping not, of course, but it is possible."

"How are we supposed to find him if he is alive?" Kevin said.

"We have no idea," Dean said. "For all we know he's on Earth and human or in Heaven and the new God again along with Metatron. We just have to keep trying. No matter what's happened or what he's done, he's still Cas, he's still family."

* * *

Dean snatched his phone from the counter next to the stove. He raised an eyebrow in surprise at the caller ID and answered, putting his phone between his ear and shoulder.

"Garth?" he said.

"_Dean_!" the young hunter said excitedly and loudly, making Dean wince a little.

"Yeah, hi, Garth. What's going on?" Dean said, stirring the boiling pasta.

"_Kinda hopin' you could fill me in. Hunting community's been stirred up with all the supernatural activity. Demon activity has increased and the entire hunting community knows about the Fall of the Angels_," Garth said and Dean sighed.

"It has a name now?"

"_The Fall of the Angels. Got a nice ring, don't it_?"

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know what to tell you, Garth. There's not much to tell. Cas went rogue—again—and took the Angel Tablet, gave it to Metatron who used it to lock Heaven and kick out the Angels. Sam aborted the third trial and nearly died. We have no idea what happened to Crowley since we just left him behind to save Sam's life and the Gates of Hell remain wide open."

There was a brief moment of silence which Dean used to season the pasta.

"_Okay, so what's happening now_?"

"Sam, Kevin, and I are hanging out at home recovering and will continue to do so until we are recovered. Well, those two anyways, I'm fine."

"_Well, what do you have on this Angel situation? I need something, Dean. I've got hunters demanding answers_."

"Then tell them to find some because we have nothing," Dean said and then sighed again. "Look, we're recovering. Sam is alive but is not even close to being better. And, I know you want answers and want our help, but, Garth, we're done. We're not dealing with the Angels and Demons anymore. We don't care what's happening with them because it's not up to us to solve it. It's their problem. Tell the hunters to back off and if they want to talk, they can call me directly."

"_You...you guys are retiring_?" Garth said, sounding young and almost scared.

"No, not retiring. We're still going to be hunters but we're going back to just taking cases. You know, hunting the Wendigos and vampires of the world. No more Angels and Demons."

"_I can't help but think this idea of yours won't work_," Garth said. "_Every Angel in existence is on Earth and Demons are free to come and go from Hell while Crowley and Abaddon battle for the reign of Hell. You can't just leave this stuff behind and pretend it's not happening_."

"We are well aware it's happening but we're also well aware that we are not the only hunters in the world," Dean said, straining the pasta in the sink. "Garth, don't you think we've done enough? Don't you think Sam's done enough? The kid already threw himself into Lucifer's Cage, has wandered around soulless, has gone crazy, and has now almost died trying to close Hell. I've been to Hell, a crappy ass Heaven, Purgatory, and watched my little brother go crazy and die. I think we've done more than enough for this world in regards to the Angels and Demons. We will keep helping people with their ghosts and ghouls and werewolves, but that's it. If we come across an Angel or Demon, we'll deal with it, but we are not being their soldiers anymore. They're on their own."

He heard Garth sigh on the other end of the line. "_You're right, man. You guys deserve it. All right, I'll let the hunters know that you guys don't know anything and try keep them off of you. If they demand, I'll give them your number_."

"You do that," Dean said, pulling bowls out of a cupboard and putting them on the counter.

"_Dean...how's Sam? And Kevin_?"

"Sam's okay. He's not better by any means and it's going to be a while before he is, but he's getting there. Getting a little bit better every day. Kevin's a lot better. We've had him put the Demon Tablet away so now he's sleeping and eating, actually taking care of himself. We're all getting there. Right now we're ignoring the outside world and just focusing on getting better."

"_Good idea. It's a mess out here_."

"Don't tell me anything, please. I really don't want to have to care," Dean said and Garth chuckled.

"_Right-o. I'll let you go then. Say 'hey' to Sam and Kev for me. I'll visit when I can_."

"We'll be here," Dean said, ladling sauce over the pasta.

"_Wait_!"

Dean jumped at the shout. "What?" he said, annoyed. The kid may have grown on him but he was still irritating.

"_What's up with Cas_?"

"I also don't have an answer for that either," Dean said. "He was with Metatron in Heaven the last I knew. So here are the options. One, he's up there ruling with Metatron or as a hostage. Two, he Fell with the rest of the Angels and is now human, partially human, or still full on Angel. Or, three, he's dead. Pick one of the above or give me another option."

"_You're a joy, aren't you_?" Garth said and Dean glared at his spaghetti as though it was a substitute for the hunter that had taken over for Bobby. "_Calm down, just sayin'. I'll keep an eye out for our Angel buddy then and let you know if I get anything, all right_?"

"Fine," Dean said and then blew out a breath. "Thanks, Garth, really. Come by whenever you want."

"_Will do, man. Talk to you again_!"

"Yeah, right," Dean said and hung up the phone, shaking his head as he tossed it back on the counter and then returned to preparing dinner. He couldn't help but be secretly glad that Garth had called. It let him know that nothing had happened to the kid in the Fall of the Angels. Maybe he should call Charlie, too, just to make sure nothing had happened to her.

Garth irritated him and Charlie was an excitable nerd but he wanted them at the bunker. He wanted to be able to know they were okay without having to hope they would answer a phone.

And what a girl he was becoming.

He rolled his eyes at himself and pushed the bowls of spaghetti to the seats at the island.

"Kevin!" he called. "Wake Sam up and come out here. Supper's ready."

"Finally!" Kevin shouted back and Dean chuckled.

He grabbed three glasses from another cupboard and poured milk for the three of them. He also sprinkled parmesan cheese on the spaghetti and dropped forks next to each bowl. He opened the oven and pulled out the garlic bread that had finished cooking and was now just being kept warm. He put the salt, pepper, and parmesan cheese in reach in case anyone wanted more. He put a lid on the pots of spaghetti pasta and sauce, turned off the elements, and went around the island to sit down for the meal.

He was just doing the customary folding and stirring of the noodles that usually took place before the first bite when his stomach dropped.

"Dean! It's Sam! He won't wake up!" Kevin yelled and Dean was running towards Sam's bedroom.

He couldn't help but curse. The past couple days had gone by so well. Sam hadn't had any trouble at all. He'd coughed a little but no major coughing fits or pain or blood. He hadn't spiked any kind of fever. He hadn't even had a nightmare.

So what was happening now?

He slid into Sam's bedroom and rushed to his bedside. Sam was lying exactly where Dean recalled last seeing him. After his lunchtime meds and meal, Sam had gone to take a nap. Dean had checked on him a couple of times and he had seemed to be resting peacefully so he had left his brother alone.

Sam was on his back, his head on the pillow and turned slightly to the right. His eyes were moving behind his eyelids, indicating he was dreaming. He was completely still except for his hidden eyes and his steadily rising and falling chest. He looked absolutely fine so why wasn't he waking up?

"Sam? Sam, wake up," Dean said, putting his hands on Sam's shoulders and shaking lightly. "Sam, wake up. Come on, get up." He shook a little harder but Sam didn't even twitch.

Dean looked at Kevin whose expression was that of complete concern as he watched Dean fail to wake up the younger hunter. He turned back to Sam and put a hand on Sam's cheek. He flinched and pulled back. Sam's skin was ice cold.

"Kevin, get the thermometer out of the first aid kit," Dean said. Kevin tore through the kit that was sitting on the floor near Dean's makeshift bed until he found the small glass and plastic rod. He handed it to Dean who carefully slid it under Sam's lax tongue. They waited in silence, Kevin hovering nervously and Dean running his fingers through Sam's hair. The thermometer beeped and Dean took it out, looking at the temperature. He frowned.

"What is it?" Kevin asked quietly.

"His temperature is perfectly normal. Not even half a degree above or below normal," Dean said, chucking the thermometer aside. He felt Sam's skin again. It was still freezing. He didn't understand. What could be making Sam's skin be so cold but not change his temperature? Was it tied to Sam's unresponsiveness? "Sam? Sammy, come on, it's time to wake up. I've got supper all ready."

Kevin started chewing on his fingernail as he stared at Sam's blank face. If it wasn't for his chest moving, Sam would look dead. It was extremely disconcerting. He had really come to like the Winchester brothers and Sam had reassured him he had a home at the bunker. But it wouldn't be home if Sam wasn't there! Sam couldn't die. His death would cause such chaos. If Sam died, Dean would be done...gone, and Kevin would be on his own again. He wanted to make the bunker home. He didn't intend to leave which meant neither Sam nor Dean could leave either. And then they would find Cas and he'd have a chance to really get to know the Angel when said Angel wasn't crazy.

"Dean? What are we supposed to do?" Kevin asked hesitantly.

"I'm not sure, Kev. I don't even know what's wrong," Dean said and Kevin spotted the man's shaking hands as they physically examined Sam. "Get my phone. It's in the kitchen."

Kevin nodded and ran out, snatching the iPhone the minute he was close enough. He held it out and Dean took it, immediately unlocking it and scrolling through his contacts. He eventually stopped on one and hit 'call', putting it on speaker as he waited for an answer.

"_Dr. Maki's office, how can I help you_?" a young woman's voice said.

"I need to talk to Dr. Maki right now," Dean said.

"_Can I ask who's calling_?"

"Dean Winchester. He treated my brother, Sam," Dean said, feeling Sam's pulse again to find it perfectly normal. What the hell was wrong with his brother?

"_I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester, but Dr. Maki is not in right now. Can I take a message_?"

"How can I get a hold of him?" Dean said, ignoring her message offer.

"_I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester, but he is off-duty today. He took a personal day and has requested he not be bothered_."

"Well, you better bother him because something is wrong with my brother and it is, yet again, something else he did not warn us about," Dean said and Kevin could hear the anger and concern in the hunter's voice.

"_I'm very sorry, sir, but the doctor cannot be reached. I can take a message and have him call you when he is avail_..."

Dean hung up and threw his phone down on the blankets that made up his bed on the floor. He stared at his little brother in worry. He tried to ignore how cold Sam was, tried to ignore the memories the cold skin evoked. He gently lifted one of Sam's eyelids and watched the pupil dilate like it should. There was absolutely nothing wrong. His breathing was normal, his heart rate was normal, his temperature was normal, his pupils were dilating, there was no blood anywhere. Yet Sam's skin was like ice and he was unresponsive.

"Look, go eat, Kevin," Dean said. "I don't think there's anything severely wrong. Eat before it gets cold."

"Are you sure?" Kevin said.

Dean nodded. "Go. You're still recovering, too, so you need to eat."

Kevin was still hesitant but eventually agreed. "Okay. Tell me if he gets better or worse?"

"I will," Dean said with a small smile. "Go."

Dean watched the kid leave and then returned his attention to Sam. He sighed as he brushed back Sam's hair again and watched his little brother in concern.

* * *

Dean blinked slowly, realizing he had fallen asleep at some point. He had been keeping watch over Sam through the night, waiting for him to wake up. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, his attention going straight to Sam's bed.

Sam's _empty_ bed.

He jumped to his feet, anxiety crushing his heart. He spun around as though Sam was just hiding in one of the room's corners and he had just missed the giant kid. He felt irrational fear take hold when he didn't see his brother.

"Sam?" he called, listening intently for a response. "Sam!"

He ran from the bedroom, sliding into the hall, shouting for his brother.

"Sammy, you had better answer me right now! _Sam_!"

"Dean! Hey, man, calm down."

Dean grabbed the door frame before he could rush through to the computer control room. He spun and found Sam standing in the doorway to Kevin's bedroom. He was leaning on the door frame, watching Dean with a frown. He was pale and sweating slightly but seemed fine otherwise.

"Sam. What. The. Hell?" Dean ground out, stepping towards his little brother.

"Dean, I'm fine," Sam said. "I took my meds when I woke up. I went to the bathroom and heard Kevin. He wanted some company so I joined him."

"You walked by yourself?" Dean said quietly and Sam rolled his eyes.

"It was just the bathroom and down the hall," Sam said. "I leaned on the wall the whole time and I took my time. I stopped when I felt winded and I haven't moved until now. I've been in here with Kevin for about three hours. We've been sitting on his bed."

"Sam, what happened?" Dean said. "Yesterday, you were a freakin' ice cube and wouldn't wake up. Today, you're awake, talking, and walking."

"I don't know, Dean. I had some pretty intense dreams last night but that's it," Sam said with a slight shrug. "It must've been something to do with the trials."

Standing in front of Sam now, Dean reached out and put a hand on the side of Sam's neck. His skin was back to normal, the perfect temperature.

"Come on, let's sit and finish talking," Dean said and gently pushed Sam to return to Kevin's room. Kevin looked up from a book he had sitting on his lap. Dean noticed the red eyes but didn't comment. "Morning, Kev. Doing okay?"

Kevin nodded. "I'm alright. Sam's been keeping me company. I told him to go back to bed but, obviously, he didn't listen."

"Obviously," Dean said, guiding Sam to sit back on the bed beside Kevin. "Nightmares?" he said to the Prophet and Kevin nodded, dropping his eyes back to the book that Dean realized was a photo album. "I think it's time for a little sharing and caring this morning."

Sam and Kevin stared at him, their eyebrows raised. He rolled his eyes and sat at the foot of the bed, stretching out so his legs were between Sam's and Kevin's, leaning back on his elbows.

"I think last night was a nightmare kind of night for all of us," Dean said. "Let's share, shall we?"

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam said.

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean said. "I mean it with this. We've all been through so much crap, it's no surprise we're having nightmares. I realize I'm a hard ass but I think it'd be a good idea to at least share some of our nightmares. Maybe find...comfort in the shared visions."

Sam gave a small, soft smile while Kevin's other eyebrow just joined the first.

"I'll start," Dean said, silently wondering what the hell he was doing. Sharing and caring? Since when was this a voluntary action? "Hell. Alastair in particular. He had the two of you. He had Cas. Also dreamed about watching Cas Fall and die." He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked anywhere but at Kevin and Sam. He had no idea what he was doing. Why was he sharing his dreams? What was wrong with him? He wouldn't be surprised if Sam and Kevin started testing him to be some kind of supernatural monster. He didn't react when he felt Sam's hand land on his shin. Maybe there was something wrong with him. He was initiating a chick flick after all.

Kevin ran his hand over the cover of the photo album he held. He had convinced Garth to get it for him while staying on the hunter's boat and had brought it with him to the bunker. He wasn't sure he wanted to participate in this 'sharing and caring' session if just because it was beyond weird that Dean was suggesting it. He didn't want to talk about her...but maybe it would help. Sam and Dean had lost their own mother to the supernatural and their father as well. They had lost pretty much everyone they had ever considered friend or family to the supernatural. Surely they could sympathize and empathize and understand. He took a deep breath.

"Dreamed 'bout Mom. Some memories, some thoughts on what might've happened to her. Woke up, thought I'd try forget what might've happened," he said, gesturing to the photo album. "Guess Sam heard and he came in. We went through this, talked about her a bit. I like it here, I do, but I miss her."

"You'll never stop missing her," Dean said. "Just means you'll never stop loving her."

Kevin glanced at him and nodded, swallowing thickly as he held back tears. He sniffed and hugged the photo album to his chest when Sam touched his shoulder.

"Sammy?" Dean said, nudging Sam's feet. "What happened during your beauty sleep?"

Sam nudged his brother back, making him grin. "I didn't really have nightmares, not really. I think I dreamed of Lucifer but I don't know. I dreamed of my trip to Purgatory a little. Mostly it was a dream about Cas and...Gabriel and Crowley. It was really weird. They were trying to find us, they needed help. I really don't understand it."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Got something to tell us, Sammy?"

Sam huffed and kicked Dean, making contact with his hip. Dean grunted but laughed with Kevin. "Jerk," he said.

"Bitch," Dean said automatically. "Guess last night was a crap night all around."

Sam and Kevin nodded.

"Do-do you think we'll ever find Cas?" Kevin asked after a few moments of silence.

Dean sighed while Sam looked down sadly.

"I hope we do," Dean said. "We'll keep looking until we find him. Even Garth is keeping an eye out. We have no idea what part he had in the Fall, though, so it makes it hard to know where to look and what to look for."

"We'll find him," Sam said quietly.

Kevin looked down at his photo album again as he said, "In what condition?"

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Part V

**Summary: Still no word on Castiel. Was he even alive? The brothers knew the other Angels were surely trying to hunt him down for being involved in the Fall. They couldn't leave him on his own, he was family. They had to do something to find their friend.  
**

**Warnings:**** Mild language. Slightly gory scene at the end. Slight spoilers for early Season 9.**

**Author's Note: I tried to stick to legitimate Angel information for this chapter in regards to their condition from the Fall, but I'm sure some of it is made up, mostly to do with Angel Grace. Also, this story has developed deeper plot lines than I had originally planned but, oh well, I'm enjoying it. **

**Enjoy and review please :)  
**

* * *

**Fallen Angels 101**

It had been nearly two months since the end of the trials, since the Fall of the Angels. Kevin was finally healthy again and had turned his attention to searching for Castiel and helping Sam. Sam was better but was still suffering from the effects of failing to complete the third trial. A couple of weeks earlier, Dean had been forced to bring Sam to the tiny hospital in Lebanon when Sam's lungs filled with blood spontaneously. Of course they didn't know that's what was happening. All they knew was that Sam started coughing up blood like he had after the trial and was unable to breathe. He was forced to stay in the little clinic for three days before he was recovered enough to return home where he spent a full twenty-four hours in bed.

Sam had seemed better since then, even spending time with Kevin searching for Cas. Dean was pleased to see Sam's appetite had increased as well even though he was once again sleeping more often than staying awake.

Dean had gotten a few calls from hunters over the weeks demanding explanations to Garth's deflections. They demanded to know the truth behind the Fall of the Angels, the solution to the Fall, and explanations for the rumour that the Winchesters were quitting. Dean gave simple answers, that he had no answers about the Angels and that they were only quitting the Angels and Demons, not hunting.

Garth had stopped by as well but without any news on Cas. He had stayed for a few days, helping Kevin look for the missing Angel while Sam was asleep. When he left, they thought they could have a general area where Cas could be. Dean felt his mind burning out between worrying about Sam, worrying about Cas, and fending off hunters. The hunting community really needed to just accept that they were done with the Angels and Demons and move on. He was about ready to call Charlie and get her to start re-routing hunters' calls to India so he didn't have to deal with them anymore.

With a sigh, Dean went to join Sam and Kevin in the computer control room. They were standing next to each other, talking and gesturing at the huge map.

"Hey," Dean said, walking up to stand opposite them. "Anything?"

Kevin shook his head.

"No," Sam said. "We were hoping Cas' last known location would help but it didn't. It's also hard because we don't know what condition the Angels are in. If we knew, it might help."

"Condition?" Dean said.

"There's all kinds of lore on falling Angels and Angels being kicked from Heaven," Kevin said. "Some lore says that Angels will die if forced to fall to Earth. Other lore says they will wander Earth like a spirit until they find a vessel but will die if they don't find a vessel fast enough. Pretty much all of it says Angels are split from their Grace which lands somewhere else."

"Do we know if any of it's true?" Dean asked.

"It's hard to say," Sam said. "All of it seems pretty legitimate though."

"So Cas really might be dead," Dean said and rubbed a hand across his mouth, anxious.

"He might be, yes," Sam admitted, knowing trying to sugar-coat it wouldn't help. "However, I don't think he is. He has a vessel so he had a connection to Earth before the Fall. Having his vessel may have kept him alive."

Dean tried not to hope but couldn't help a little coming through. "And all that about Grace?"

"He might have it and he might not. There's really no way to know unless we actually found his Grace," Kevin said.

Dean looked down at the map, bracing himself on the edge. "We have to know about the Angels, don't we?"

Sam nodded sadly. "If we want a shot at finding him."

Dean sighed. "All right, give me a minute." He left the map and sat at one of the large tables, pulling out his phone. "Garth, hey. Yeah, everything's fine. Listen, man, where are you?" There was a pause as Garth answered. "Got time to come here? We need your help with something. No, nothing bad. We need information that might help us find Cas." Another pause. "Three to four hours? That's fine, we'll be here. Thanks, man."

Sam and Kevin watched him hang up and rejoin them at the map.

"He's been doing a lot of research and work on the Angels since the Fall so he has something to tell other hunters," Dean said. "He'll probably know what happened to them in the Fall. Besides, he's been looking for Cas too."

"Guess we can't really pull out of all this," Sam said, sounding upset and discouraged. "Should've known," he muttered and walked from the room, going slowly as his still weak body protested regular movement.

Dean sighed again as he watched Sam disappear around a corner. Though they hadn't fully discussed it, it seemed they had already started to settle into a life away from Angels and Demons. He had already been telling people who asked that the only dealings they would have with Angels or Demons would be if they happened to come across one or took a case that turned out to be one. Otherwise, that was it. They were going back to travelling around and taking the cases of ghouls, ghosts, and vampires while returning to the bunker between cases now that they actually had a home to return to.

But now they had to get into the world of Angels again so they could find Castiel. He didn't want to be involved with the Angels any more than Sam did, but they had to find Cas whether he was dead or alive. If he was dead, he deserved a proper funeral, a _hunter's_ funeral, and if he was alive, Dean refused to leave him out in the world alone.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up at the young Prophet when Kevin spoke quietly.

"Should...should I get the Demon Tablet out?" he asked hesitantly and reluctantly, clearly not wanting to hear 'yes'.

Dean was shaking his head even before Kevin had finished speaking. "No. I don't want you even thinking about the Tablet anymore. We're only getting information on the Angels so we can find Cas, nothing more. Finding out about the Angels seems to be the only way we can find Cas right now so that's what we're doing."

Kevin nodded, clearly relaxing. "So, Sam, he..."

"He'll be okay. He just thinks we're going to get sucked back into the Angel crap, get stuck figuring out how to stop Metatron and get the Angels back to Heaven. We won't though. This is just about finding Cas," Dean said. "Look, go do...something, anything that's not this. I'm going to talk to Sam. You go relax. Go watch TV or something."

"Okay," Kevin said and started to walk out of the room. He stopped in the doorway, though, and turned around to look at Dean. "Hey, we, uh, we should watch a movie tonight. Just for something fun to do, distract us from everything for a couple hours." The kid looked totally uncomfortable suggesting it but also seemed to be sincere.

Dean gave him a small smile. "Sounds good, Kev. You choose the movie."

"Really?" Kevin said, perking up and sounding surprised his suggestion had been taken.

"Absolutely," Dean said. "We'll watch it when Garth leaves, yeah?"

Kevin couldn't help his large smile. "Yeah."

Dean nodded and walked off to find his little brother. For a while Kevin just stood there, staring at nothing with a moronic smile on his face.

* * *

"Sammy?" Dean pushed open Sam's closed but not latched door and walked into the room. He took a minute to look around his brother's bedroom.

It was still completely bare except for a book sitting on the bedside table with the lamp. There were no pictures or items on the walls or any flat surface like the bedside table or the top of the dresser. The shelves on the right side of the room were doing nothing but collecting dust. Even the bed was dull. For one, the mattress still had to be replaced. Dean was determined the get his brother a Memory Foam mattress as well. The bedding was what they had found on the bed when they moved in, just white and cream coloured thin blankets and pillow cases. Sam's duffle sat on the floor at the foot of the bed and Dean shook his head when he realized his brother was still living out of his bag.

"We have got to do something about this room, Sammy," Dean said. The only thing he wasn't criticizing was the wall to the left that had markings all over it and that was because it was the wall he was knocking down to replace with doors.

"It's fine," Sam muttered from the bed. He was lying on his back and staring up at the stone ceiling.

Dean rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed, stepping around the mass of blankets that were acting as his until Sam was better. He sat on the edge, high enough up the bed to be able to look at Sam directly.

"What's up, Sam?"

"Nothing."

"Right, because that's why you left the room pouting like when you were five and I wouldn't buy you a candy bar," Dean said.

Sam glared at him and said nothing.

"Sam," Dean said but Sam just stared at the ceiling, stonily silent. He sighed quietly. "We need to find Cas, that's the only reason we're doing this."

"Yeah, for now," Sam said. "But then something will come up and we'll get pulled in and we'll have to solve whatever it is, and then, look at that, we're working with and against the Angels and Demons again."

"That's not going to happen," Dean said. "We're getting information on the Angels from Garth, not taking an Angel hostage and torturing him for answers."

"What if we have to?" Sam said. "What if Garth's information isn't enough?"

"It's Cas, Sam, we have to find him," Dean said. "I think you've said it yourself that, if he's alive, he's probably got a whole bunch of Angels after him. You want to just leave him to that?"

"Of course not," Sam said. "He's family."

"Then what's the problem? We've done extreme things for each other. Why is this such a big deal?"

Sam was quiet for a minute. "Because I'm sick of being given hope of getting out only to be dragged back in."

Dean felt himself deflate. He knew what Sam was talking about. So many times Sam had made the decision to leave hunting or a part of hunting only to be pulled back in for some reason. There had been his escape to Stanford, probably the closest he ever came to leaving hunting behind, only for Dean to come and take him away. There had been brief thoughts leading up to the defeat of Azazel that Sam would get out when the Demon was dead but then the Gate of Hell had been opened and Sam found out about Dean's deal. Next was during Sam's addiction days where the two of them had split up and Sam had gone to live anonymously as a guy named 'Keith'. Then hunters came and destroyed that. And last was when Dean was in Purgatory. Sam left the life when he couldn't handle having lost Dean yet again and settled down with a girl. Then the girl's previously thought dead husband returned and so did Dean, bringing Sam back to his brother's side.

Dean let out a deep breath and looked at his brother. "Sam," he said, "I'm sorry. I know you've always wanted out of this life but it could never let you go, could it? Scratch that, _I_ could never let you go, let you leave."

Sam rolled his head so he could look at Dean. "You were the one to let me go half the time."

"But I was always the one to bring you back, too, because I'm apparently incapable of being alone."

"Nah, you just want your family close," Sam said. "Besides, do you think I'd have come back every time if I didn't want to? Surely you know that I don't do anything I don't want, not even if someone tries to make me, even you."

Dean's lips twitched in a small grin, acknowledging the truth of the statement. He had more influence over Sam than anyone but if Sam didn't want to do something, not even his big brother could make him.

"I don't hate this life, Dean, the hunting life, not anymore anyways," Sam said, returning his eyes to the ceiling. "I just hate that we're finally on the same page about something, about getting out of this part of hunting, but are now being dragged into it again."

"Sam, I'm not going back on this," Dean said, pulling Sam's eyes back to his. "We _are_ leaving the Angels and Demons behind. We will not get pulled in again. We're doing this to find Cas but if it starts to seem like we're going to get in too deep again, we'll get out and find another way to find Cas."

Sam swallowed. "Really?" he said quietly, sounding all of four rather than thirty.

"Really." Dean nodded. "I'm still all for our plan. Back to basics, Sammy."

Eventually Sam smiled and nodded back then proceeded to blush. "Sorry for being five years old."

Dean chuckled and pat Sam's leg. "Ah, Sammy, at least I remember how to deal with you at five years old whereas thirty year old you I'm still figuring out."

Sam tried to scowl but had apparently grown tired and the expression did nothing. Dean hoped this part of the trial trauma would go away soon. He was sick of watching his little brother grow suddenly exhausted and fall asleep within seconds.

"You're a jerk but you do pretty well," Sam muttered, blinking to try and stay awake but failing miserably.

As was his customary response, Dean snorted and rolled his eyes at the comment while inwardly smiling. He always liked to think he had done well raising Sam and now taking care of him even through all the crap over the past few years, but it was even better to have it validated by someone else, especially Sam.

"Girl," Dean mumbled affectionately. "Come on, naptime."

"Not three, dude," Sam said even as his eyes closed and he allowed Dean to move him around. "Don't take naps."

"Of course not, Sammy," Dean said indulgently as he shoved his brother under the blankets and then pulled them up to his chin.

"Jerk," Sam said sleepily, already half asleep.

"Bitch," Dean returned. "I'll wake you up in time for movie night if you don't wake up before then."

But Sam was asleep and didn't hear a thing. Dean just smiled, brushed back Sam's hair, and left the room, closing the door part way.

* * *

"Thanks for stopping by, man," Dean said as he, Kevin, and Garth sat in the living area.

"Not a problem," Garth said. "Always happy to help." He took the beer Dean offered. "So what do you need to know?"

"I don't know anything specific but we need to know about the Angels," Dean said. "It's possible Cas survived the Fall because he had a vessel. However, we need to know the condition that the Angels seem to be in so we know what to look for."

"Ah, got'cha," Garth said and took a swallow of beer before continuing. "A lot of Angels died in the Fall. I've picked up on some names of dead Angels and Castiel hasn't been one of them. Most of the Angels that actually survived are still wandering around in a spirit-like, metaphysical form looking for vessels. Some took vessels when they hit Earth and others have been or are being reborn as humans."

Dean and Kevin stared at him. "How do you know all this?" Dean asked.

Garth grinned. "I know people, got connections. Took over for Bobby so kinda have to know these kinda things, don't I?"

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Anywho," Garth said. "A lot of the Angels have no memory of who they are. They don't know they're Angels. These are the ones who have been reborn and some of the ones who took vessels. They're wandering around completely lost and confused."

"What about their Grace?" Kevin asked. "Do any Angels have their powers?"

Garth shook his head. "Most or all of the Angels lost their Grace. It separated from them in the Fall. There are some who have their Grace or found it because I have heard of some Angel activity which wouldn't be noticeable without Grace."

"Got any names for the ones who have their Grace?" Dean said.

"I've got one," Garth said. "Name's Bartholomew. He's, uh, helpin' Angels get vessels."

Dean frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Garth gestured to Sam's laptop sitting on the coffee table. Dean nodded and he grabbed it, turning it on. "This guy, Bartholomew, he's figured out the Internet. He's using an online preacher to tell people to say 'yes' to Angels if an Angel comes looking for a vessel."

"You're kidding?" Kevin said and Garth shook his head as he typed away on the computer.

"'Fraid not, man," Garth said and then spun the computer on his lap so the others could see the page he had brought up.

The page was filled with a picture of a man standing in front of a blue background, a podium with a huge book sitting open on it. There was a 'play' symbol in the center of the picture, indicating it was a video of some kind. The very top of the page had the heading 'Just Say Yes'. The man was middle-aged, of heavier build, light brown hair, and wore a grey suit and tie.

"Well, this is just awesome," Dean grumbled. "Who is this guy?"

"Reverend Buddy Boyle," Garth said. "Online preacher with a massive fanbase and, to some, a known Angel. Well, vessel. Bartholomew had him possessed so he could take control of him and his company."

Dean ran his hands over his face. "Okay, let's put Bart and the boys away for a minute. Angels and their Grace. Is there any connection between where the Angel hit and where the Grace hit?"

Garth shook his head. "Not that I've found so far. Angels, even those that don't remember they're Angels, can sense Grace, especially their own, of course. They feel a...tug or something that brings them to their Grace if they pay attention to it."

"So all Angels are able to get their Grace back if they look for it?" Kevin said and Garth nodded. "That would be a bad thing, wouldn't it?"

"Very bad," Garth said. "That would mean we'd have thousands of full powered Angels with vessels hanging around on Earth."

"And all pissed at the one Angel they can probably get to," Dean said. "If Cas is alive, he had better be hiding otherwise he won't last a day if he doesn't have his powers."

"So...does this help us find Cas?" Kevin said and Dean sighed.

"I don't think so," the older hunter said. "We have no idea if Cas has his Grace or not, we have no idea if he even remembers who he is, and, for all we know, other Angels have already gotten to him."

"I'll keep looking," Garth said. "I've been hitting all the states, looking at security cameras, talkin' to people. I got people callin' me when they find, see, or hear of an Angel."

"Good," Dean said. "Keep doing that."

"Will do," Garth said. "Before I take off, I've got some news for yah."

"What's up?" Dean said.

Garth reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Got a call from Montana police. You know, checkin' that someone's really FBI. Got a hunter there checking out some Demon activity. He sent me some footage from a security camera. At one point on the camera, this happened."

He opened the paper and pushed it over to Dean. The picture was dark and grainy and difficult to make out, but it wasn't impossible. It was a picture of a couple of vending machines with a person bent in front of one, one arm disappearing inside it.

"Is...is this guy...stealing candy?" Dean said, raising an eyebrow at Garth.

"He is," Garth said, nodding. "You recognize him?"

Dean looked closer. Again, it was hard to make out so it took a while to realize that he _did_ know the perpetrator. "Crowley? As in King of Hell Crowley?"

"Looks like," Garth said.

"The King of Hell is stealing candy?" Kevin said, incredulous. "Why is the King of Hell stealing candy?" He snatched the picture to see for himself.

"Hell if I know," Garth said. "Thought it something you'd be interested in."

"Well, that kind of explains what happened to him after the trial," Dean said. "What's his state?"

"No idea," Garth said. "Insane?"

"Dick's always been insane," Dean said with a snort. "Keep an eye on him. Let me know if he does anything or if you find out what's going on with him."

"Right-o, Dean-o," Garth said, ignoring Dean's glare. "I gotta hit the road. I'll keep you updated."

"Thanks, man," Dean said and shook the hunter's hand. He gave a short wave as Garth walked out the door and then sat back with a deep sigh. He rubbed his hands over his face again, suddenly feeling beyond exhausted.

Kevin looked up from the picture of Crowley and bit his lip at Dean's obvious tiredness. Maybe tonight wasn't the best night to watch a movie? Maybe they should wait until they found Castiel. He was about to say so when Dean spoke first.

"Pick a movie for tonight, Kev?"

Kevin blinked and then stopped himself from smiling in relief. "Not yet. I was looking when Garth came by."

Dean nodded and pushed away from the table to stand. "Choose well," he said and Kevin chuckled. "If you pick a chick movie, though, you're on your own."

"Got it," Kevin said.

Dean pat his shoulder and left to check on Sam and then start dinner. He was wandering down the hallway towards Sam's bedroom when Sam himself was suddenly stumbling out of his room, crashing into the opposite wall. Dean noticed his brother's shirt was torn on the sleeve and frowned.

"Sam?" Dean said but Sam didn't appear to hear him. Sam was flinching while staring with wide eyes in his bedroom. "Sammy?"

Then Sam started to run towards him, looking absolutely terrified. Tears were in his eyes but his eyes were unfocused and his skin was flushed. He appeared fevered and was clearly seeing something that Dean wasn't. He reached out and grabbed Sam as he tried to race by.

"Sam. Sam!"

"Can't be real...not real...not real...out, I'm out...got out...not real..._no_!"

Dean stared at Sam in alarm while trying to keep hold of his struggling brother. He noticed Sam was jabbing his thumb into his palm, his old coping mechanism when Lucifer had been taking over his reality. He hadn't seen the action for a couple of years and seeing it now instantly worried him.

"Sam, listen to me. Sam!" Dean said, holding Sam's arms tightly. "Sam, whatever you're seeing, it's not real, man. It's not real! Look at me. Come on, Sammy, look at me!"

And then Sam's legs fell out from under him, bringing the both of them to the hard floor. His chin was to his chest and his hands limp in his lap. His shoulders started shaking as he cried silently.

"Only Dean calls me 'Sammy'," Sam whispered. "I want Dean. Wan' Dean."

Dean felt his heart stop painfully. He could feel how warm Sam's skin was, indicating he had spiked a high fever in the past few hours. He figured it was causing him to hallucinate and it didn't take a genius or science to figure out he was probably hallucinating Hell and Lucifer. He wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders and gently pulled his little brother to his chest. He tucked Sam's head under his chin and held him tight, hoping to get through the hallucination.

"I'm here, Sammy," he said quietly, ducking his head so he could place his lips near Sam's ear. "It's me, it's Dean. I've got you, kiddo. You're okay. You're okay, Sammy."

* * *

Sam groaned as he turned over, wishing he hadn't woken up. He didn't feel anymore rested than before he had fallen asleep. He thought he heard muffled voices from somewhere else in the bunker but paid it no attention. If it was important, it would have to come to him. His eyes opened a crack and then closed. It took a few minutes but the image he had seen through his cracked eyes finally registered with his brain and his eyes flew open again.

"_Hello again, Sammy_."

Sam sat up, tossing the blankets aside and tumbling from the bed. He stared at Lucifer in horror. How was this happening? This couldn't be happening. He wasn't in the Cage anymore, Dean had gotten him out and Castiel had taken away the hallucinations. So this...this was a nightmare, had to be, he was still asleep.

"_Ah, Sammy, you really thought I was gone_?" Lucifer said with a grin, walking over to the bed and sitting cross-legged on it. "_I've always been here. Just waiting for your company once again_."

"You-you're not real," Sam said, his voice shaking.

"_You sure about that_?" Lucifer said. "_Because this all looks pretty real to me_."

And then blood started to run down the walls in little rivulets. Sam raised his hands to find his palms covered in blood. He flinched and looked down to find he was sitting in a growing puddle of blood. He looked up at Lucifer again only to see Dean sitting on his bed instead of the Devil.

"Dean," Sam breathed. "Dean, I—Lucifer, he—"

The bed burst into flames, Dean sitting calmly in the middle. Sam jumped at the sudden fire. Dean just looked at him through the red and orange flames, not seeming to notice as his skin began to burn. Tears poured down Sam's face as he watched his big brother burn alive, watched his skin bubble and burn away.

"_Watch big brother burn_."

Sam was on his feet and spinning around to keep Lucifer from being behind him. He stumbled backwards, his eyes flicking between the Devil and Dean. He vaguely felt himself hit a solid wall but didn't really notice as the flames finally concealed Dean's charred body.

"_Aw, Sammy, is big brother dead_?" Lucifer said from Sam's shoulder, making him flinch. "_Did big brother burn like Mommy and Jessica_?"

There was no way this could be real. Neither he nor Dean was in Hell. They were in the bunker, weren't they? He ground his thumb into his palm unconsciously.

"Can't be real...not real...not real...out, I'm out...got out...not real..._no_!"

He jerked away and started to run when Lucifer reached out to him. Lucifer was here. It was real. He was in Hell. He had never gotten out. Everything had been a lie. He was still in the Cage. He had never been with Dean. He was still alone. He was still without Dean. He fought when something suddenly clamped on his arms. He struggled as the touch seemed to burn. It had to be Lucifer so he slammed his eyes shut and tried to get free.

"_You're mine, Sammy_," Lucifer breathed directly into his ear. "_Never going to see Dean again, Sammy. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy_..."

He couldn't believe it had all been a lie. He truly thought he had been free, had been with Dean. He felt his heart break and then he was falling. The burning pressure on his arms was gone and he felt the hard floor beneath him.

"Only Dean calls me 'Sammy'," he whispered. "I want Dean. Wan' Dean." He cried, not caring if it made things worse later on. He wanted his big brother. He wanted Dean to hug him and tell him everything would be okay. He wanted to be with Dean. He was tired of being away from him. He wanted his big brother just like when he was a little kid. He wanted Dean to hold him and make everything better because that's what Dean did; he made everything better.

He felt himself tilting sideways and then stopped by a solid surface. However, it was a softer surface and it moved a little. Warmth suddenly surrounded him and he immediately relaxed into it along with the feeling of absolute safety that seemed to come with it. Distinct smells worked their way into his senses. Oil, some gunpowder, and, more recently, spices invaded his space and mind. He knew these smells, knew that he associated home, safety, warmth, and love with them.

"I'm here, Sammy."

He heard the quiet words as they broke through the horror scene he had found himself in. He pushed himself into the hold, relaxing and trying to slow his breathing so he could listen to the words being spoken.

"It's me, it's Dean. I've got you, kiddo. You're okay. You're okay, Sammy."

Dean.

Dean had come. He had wanted Dean and Dean had come. He should never doubt Dean. His big brother always came when he was needed. He moved one hand until he felt material under his fingers and latched on. He fell further into the hold he now knew was Dean, feeling too tired and now safe to remain awake.

"Really, Sammy? You're gonna sleep on the floor?" he heard Dean say. He just hummed and let himself fall asleep.

* * *

Dean huffed when Sam went completely lax against him, clearly asleep. He didn't want Sam sleeping on the hallway floor but he didn't want to disturb his brother either. The kid had obviously just gone through hell and was exhausted. He sighed and looked down at his little brother still leaning against his chest. Sam's fingers were tangled in his shirt and his breathing in sync with Dean's.

Dean shook his head with a smile and brushed a hand over Sam's hair. He shifted them carefully so he could lean against the wall with Sammy still attached to him.

"Dean, is everything okay?" Kevin came into the hallway and his eyebrows rose when he saw the two brothers. "What happened? Heard yelling."

"He was hallucinating," Dean said, his hand absently rubbing Sam's arm.

Kevin winced in sympathy. "Hell?" he guessed.

"I'm assuming," Dean said. "He kept saying it wasn't real so he was probably seeing Lucifer."

"He okay?"

"He will be," Dean said. "He just needs to rest now. Can you get a blanket and a pillow? I'm apparently not going anywhere and I don't want him to get cold because he made the genius decision to sleep on the stone floor."

Kevin snorted a laugh and went to Sam's bedroom to take the blankets and pillow from the bed. He handed the pillow to Dean who put it behind his back to cushion the hard wall while he draped the blanket over Sam's long body.

"Thanks, kid," Dean said, pulling the blanket over Sam's shoulder.

"Should we move the movie to another night?" Kevin asked but Dean shook his head.

"No, we'll do it tonight. He just needs an hour or two to sleep and then we'll have food while we watch it," Dean said.

"You gonna stay here for two hours?" Kevin said, raising an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't be the worst place or position I've stayed for the Sasquatch," Dean said and Kevin laughed, leaving the brothers in the hallway. Dean looked down at his sleeping brother with a fond smile before leaning back against the wall. He closed his eyes and got as comfortable as possible. Might as well catch up on sleep himself while he was trapped.

None of the bunker's occupants noticed or knew of the flash of gold light or the gold and white feather that appeared in the computer control room.

**To Be Continued...**


	6. Part VI

**Summary: One trial symptom over and already they have to deal with another one?**

**Warnings: Mild language. Massive brotherly fluff. Probably a stomach clenching scene. You might cry, you've been warned.**

**Author's Note: Plot lines are thickening. Introduction of another character that will be a main. I also changed when Kevin makes his "Kevin freakin' Solo" comment. It actually takes place in 9.02 but I have it happening earlier. Just sometime during Season 8 instead, nothing more specific than that. I just really wanted to use that name. Review please :)**

* * *

**Breathe**

Sam woke up to an ache in his back and a chill seeping through his clothes. He blinked and frowned as he realized he wasn't in his bedroom or even in Dean's. He rolled his head slightly and found he was lying in the hallway between their bedrooms. Why was he in the hallway? He shifted and felt a blanket move over his body, felt what was definitely not a pillow move under his head. It wasn't a pillow but he had used it as one more often than he could remember. So why was he in the hallway using his big brother as a pillow?

"Sam?" he heard Dean say quietly above him before a hand touched the back of his head. "You awake?"

"Mhm," Sam murmured. "Why we in the hallway?"

"You decided it was a good bed," Dean said, still brushing his hand through Sam's hair.

"Why?"

"You had a fever, started hallucinating," Dean said.

Sam frowned, trying to remember. He had flashes of fire and Dean and Lucifer, and he shivered. Dean rubbed his arm through the blanket at the movement.

"Okay?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, just remembered what happened."

"What _did_ happen?"

Sam turned his head and buried his face in Dean's thigh. "Lucifer," he mumbled. "Thought he was back or that I was still in the Cage."

Dean continued rubbing his arm. "You're okay, Sammy. You're out and I'm here."

Sam couldn't help but smile against Dean's leg. "I know," he whispered.

They were quiet for a while with Sam still lying on Dean and Dean rubbing his arm and hair. It reminded Sam of when they were kids, when sleeping in the same bed had been common and comfortable. Well, not that it had ever stopped being comfortable. Just because he had grown up, it didn't mean he didn't still get his best sleep when cuddled up to his big brother. There was just no way in hell he would ever be found admitting it.

"Think you're good to get up?" Dean eventually asked. "I gotta make supper and then Kevin's got a movie waiting for us."

Sam made himself roll so he was on his back, looking up at Dean. Dean's hand on his arm simply moved over Sam's body to rest casually on his little brother's chest.

"What?"

"Kevin said he wanted to have a movie night," Dean said, drumming his fingers absently on his brother's chest. "Said we should have a night to just forget about everything and relax."

"Really?" Sam said and Dean nodded. "Good idea. What movie?"

"Don't know. Told him to pick."

Sam smiled at a memory. "I think I might know what movie he'll pick."

Dean gave him a questioning look while absently pushing hair out of Sam's eyes.

"Dude, remember?" Sam said. "He's 'Kevin freakin' Solo'."

Dean barked out a laugh as he, too, remembered. "Oh, that kid. I think we should make him a T-shirt that says that."

Sam chuckled. "Christmas."

Dean looked at him in surprise. "You want to do Christmas?"

Sam shrugged the best he could in his position. "Maybe. I mean, it's still a while away but maybe."

Dean smiled at him and then the smile turned kind of sad as his hand left Sam's hair to touch his own chest. Sam felt his own expression fall as he realized what Dean was thinking about. He clenched his jaw against the ridiculous tears that wanted to come forth and started to slowly sit up. Dean immediately reacted to his movement and helped. Eventually Sam was sitting up and facing Dean, now sitting in between Dean's legs.

"Sam," Dean said and Sam looked at him through his bangs. "I'm really sorry about the amulet. I never should've gotten rid of it. Hell, I shouldn't have even given it to Cas."

Sam looked down again, picking at strings on the blanket still covering his legs. "It's fine. It was a while ago and it was just a necklace."

"It wasn't just a necklace," Dean said. "It was...it was...us, you know? It was our...bond, our brotherhood...and I threw it away."

"Dean..."

Dean stopped him. "In Heaven, it wasn't me you were getting away from in those memories, was it? It was Dad. And even though I'm sure the Angels screwed with them and us, I remember the ending of those memories. Each one ended with me and you together for a while before Dad came, even Stanford because I drove you to the bus station."

"Those weren't my favourite memories, not by a long shot," Sam said. "I did see my favourite memories but not then, not in Heaven."

"When?"

Sam looked him straight in the eye. "In Stull Cemetery."

Dean blinked in surprise. "What?"

"We've never talked about that day," Sam said.

"For good reason."

"Maybe we should. Have you never wondered how I managed to take control?"

"No," Dean said immediately. "You did it because you're Sammy and you're strong, and, even though I despised the plan, I knew you had a shot. No one else thought so but I knew. I knew you could do it."

Sam's eyes brightened with tears. "It was because of you. Well, that army man in the ashtray."

Dean frowned in confusion.

"I saw that toy and every single moment of my life with you flashed by. I saw you and took control."

"Me, but I—"

"I saw all my happiest and favourite memories, and they all involved you," Sam said. "I saw my favourites, just not with you."

"What's your number one?" Dean asked. "Mine was that Fourth of July where we lit all those fireworks in that field."

Sam chuckled. "We almost burned the entire field to the ground."

Dean laughed. "It was great."

"There was this one time. It was after you came back from Hell. We somehow found time to drive to a field so we could watch the stars like we used to. We actually lay back on the Impala and just stared at the sky. We don't usually lie on the Impala, just sit. We laid down more when we were kids and I'd had a nightmare or something. There was something about it this time. With everything that was happening and we could still do that. That's my favourite," Sam said and then looked away almost shyly.

"Sammy," Dean whispered and reached out to pull Sam into a hug. He silently cursed the Angels for screwing with them so badly. Sure they had done their own things to screw with their relationship but it was all amplified by the angelic manipulations they faced. And this was yet another reason why he didn't care what happened to the Angels—except Cas—because they had never done anything good for him. He refused to help them just to give them more power and incentive to drive him and Sam apart.

"I'm sorry about the necklace," Dean mumbled.

"Me too," Sam said.

"Hey, uh, Dean?"

The brothers pulled back when they heard Kevin and looked up to see him poking his head in the hallway. He didn't even react to the fact that they were sitting on the hallway floor and hugging as though they were teenage girls.

"What's up, Kev?" Dean said.

"I'm hungry."

Sam laughed at the blunt statement and Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Then go eat," Dean said pointedly even though he knew what the kid was getting at.

Kevin shifted, revealing that little part of him that was still the awkward advanced placement high school student.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I got it. Get in the kitchen, right?"

"You are the cook in this place," Sam said. "You've already banned me from the kitchen."

"Dude, you made a pan catch on fire trying to cook bacon."

"It splattered and then there was fire. That was not my fault."

"Sure, Sammy."

Sam scowled at him, making Dean laugh.

"Cooking takes practice, kiddo," Dean said, pushing himself to his feet and reaching down to help Sam. "I've been cooking basically my whole life."

"I don't think what you did when we were kids counted as cooking," Sam said, slowly getting his feet under him again. "It mostly consisted of Lucky Charms, canned soup, and Spaghetti O's."

Dean shrugged. "You figure things out as you try. Good?" He lightly held Sam's elbow while his brother got his balance then let go when Sam nodded. "Besides, once I started to get money I was able to buy real food sometimes."

Sam conceded that point. "I remember once, I was around fourteen. We were on our own for three weeks. You bought steaks and snuck into the neighbour's yard to use their barbeque."

"Hey, I got you a steak," Dean said. "Made you salad, too, if I remember."

Sam smiled. "You did."

"Okay, either stop talking about steaks or get in the kitchen and make some," Kevin interrupted impatiently with a small whine in his voice.

Dean rolled his eyes again and shoved Kevin's shoulder to get him moving with them towards the kitchen. Kevin protested and punched Dean's shoulder only to have the hunter wrap an arm around his neck and drag him to the kitchen that way, ignoring the Prophet's struggles. Sam followed behind, laughing as someone else became Dean's target the way he usually was.

"_Dean_!" Kevin whined.

* * *

Kevin frowned as something in the computer control room caught his eye when he walked by, heading for the library. He walked into the huge room, automatically looking up at the door to ensure it was closed and approached the large map. His face morphed into confusion as he spotted the large feather resting innocently on the map. It was large, about the size of a swan feather, and pure white with shiny gold along the edges and in the center along the shaft.

It was honestly beautiful...but where had it come from?

He looked at where the feather had apparently landed on the map. The end of the shaft was sitting directly on Colorado.

He gazed around the room as though there would be something to tell him where the feather had come from. Biting his lip in thought, he slowly reached out and let his fingertips just barely touch the feather. When nothing happened, he grabbed the shaft and pulled it off the map. The gold seemed to glow as he stared at it.

Still confused and staring at the feather, he left the room to find one of the Winchesters. He found Sam first in the hunter's bedroom. He was just lying in his bed, curled under the blankets. He hadn't left his bed or room all day, feeling too exhausted to even move. He had managed to stay awake the night before as they watched the first two Star Wars movies, even participating in shouting 'Kevin freakin' Solo' every time Han Solo appeared on the screen. Kevin had blushed in embarrassment at first but then proceeded to burst into laughter every time after that. It appeared that the exhaustion was just another sudden symptom of his 'trial trauma', as Dean had come to call it.

"Hey, Sam," he said and Sam moved just enough to be able to see his company.

"Hey," Sam mumbled.

"Where's Dean?"

"Food...or bathroom...don't remember," Sam said and Kevin nodded. The guy really did sound tired as though he hadn't slept for a week. "What's going on?"

"Oh, I found this," Kevin said, walking closer so he could show Sam the feather. "It was sitting on the map."

He saw Sam look at it in confusion and then slowly make himself sit up. Once leaning back against pillows and the headboard, his eyes closed for a few moments as though he could fall asleep right there but they eventually opened again. He reached out for the feather and Kevin released it to him. He turned it over and looked closely at it, running fingers over the gold edges.

"Feels familiar," Sam muttered and Kevin's eyebrows furrowed at the comment that made no sense. "Think it's an Angel feather."

Kevin's eyes widened. "You think it might be Cas?"

"It could be," Sam said, still examining the feather, "but I don't think it is. It's someone else. Can't think of who."

"How did it get in here?" Kevin said. "Isn't this place warded against...everything?"

Sam looked up at Kevin, thoughtful. "It should be. We should...check...the sigils...and warding."

Kevin gave him a concerned look when it seemed Sam was having a hard time breathing. It was as though the older man couldn't draw a full breath despite trying.

"Um, Sam? Are...are you okay?" Kevin said, watching the hunter.

Sam had dropped the feather and had a hand on his chest. His eyebrows had come together in his own confusion as he tried to figure out why he suddenly couldn't breathe. He tried to take a deep breath but his chest hitched painfully and refused to oblige. He began to feel true fear as it settled in that he could not breathe properly. His eyes flew to Kevin.

"Get...get...De...Dean," he gasped out.

Kevin hesitated for just a moment, not wanting to leave Sam when he couldn't breathe but also knowing he had to get help. He cast Sam a worried glance before racing from the bedroom to find Dean.

"Dean! Dean!" he yelled, sliding down the hallways and around corners in his rush to find the older brother. He was just flying around the corner to the kitchen and dining room when he smacked into a solid body. He would've flown back and fallen to the floor had Dean's hand not shot out and grabbed his shoulder to stop him. He clutched at Dean's arm to help keep himself standing.

"What's wrong?" Dean demanded.

"It's Sam," Kevin said and Dean was already running back to the bedroom. The Prophet followed quickly, arriving in the bedroom in time to see Dean sit close to Sam on the bed.

"Sam, look at me," Dean said, framing Sam's face with his hands.

Kevin moved closer and around the bed so he could see both brothers. Sam was still gasping for breath and it seemed to have gotten worse in the few seconds he had been alone. His breaths were a little shorter and his chest was hitching with each one. Sam's face had paled and Kevin wondered if he was imagining the minute tinge of blue touching Sam's lips.

"Sammy," Dean said, forcing his brother to meet his eyes. "You gotta slow it down, man. You're fine, just calm down."

Sam tried to obey. He kept his fearful gaze on Dean and was grasping his brother's arms tightly to ground him. His eyes watered as he quickly realized nothing was helping and as his lungs began to burn for more oxygen.

"De...can't..."

He saw Dean's eyes flash with emotion before he moved. Dean carefully leaned Sam forward and situated himself behind his little brother. He stretched his legs on either side of Sam's body and pulled Sam back to lie against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Sam, placing his palms on Sam's chest.

"You're fine, Sammy, just take it easy," Dean said. "Try to match my breathing. We've done this before. You know what to do. Just focus and take it easy."

Kevin moved and carefully sat at the foot of the bed. He watched as Sam closed his eyes and held onto one of Dean's forearms, trying to make his troubled breathing match Dean's rising and falling chest. He felt like he should leave the brothers alone, that he might witness a moment that should be kept between the two of them, but he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to leave Sam unless he knew the man was going to be okay and, right now, he looked anything but okay.

"Come on, Sam," Dean urged and even Kevin was now able to hear the panic that was leaking into the older man's voice. "You _can_ breathe, Sam, you can, just calm down. You're gonna be fine."

"De...De..." Sam rasped and Kevin cringed. His breathing was even worse now and he knew he wasn't imagining the blue in Sam's lips.

"Shouldn't we get him to the hospital or something?" Kevin said, feeling hysterical panic rising up in him. Was Sam dying? Were they about to lose Sam?

"N...no...no ho...no hos..." Sam struggled to say.

"It's okay, Sam, no hospital," Dean said, his arms tightening around his brother. "No hospital. Just...try to breathe, yeah?"

Even in his position of being unable to breathe, Sam still managed to turn his head enough to give his big brother a classic bitch face which made Dean choke a laugh.

"De...De...I...I..."

"No, you're fine, Sam," Dean said, shaking his head and tightening his arms again. "You're _fine_ so shut up."

Kevin stared at the brothers, tears in his own eyes. He was sure he knew what that exchange had been about. Sam was dying...Dean was denying it. So this was it? Sure Sam had been having problems and symptoms on and off since the end of the third trial, but he had seemed to be getting better...just slowly. Now this? Out of the blue Sam was going to die by asphyxiation? He looked away from them, staring blankly at a wall as he tried to stop his tears from falling.

"K...Kev...Kev..."

Kevin looked back at Sam when he heard the hunter struggling to call for him. His tears fell instantly when he saw how pale the guy was, how blue his lips were, how glazed his eyes were becoming. He was going to watch Sam die.

He trembled when Sam smiled at him.

"Ke...good...glad...hap..."

Kevin glanced at Dean, unable to decipher what Sam was saying. He was startled at the amount of pain in Dean's expression. The eldest Winchester wasn't even trying to hide anything, not like he usually did...and that made the situation so much worse. It meant that Dean knew what was happening and knew the only thing he could do was hold his brother, make Sam know he wasn't alone.

"He's saying you're a good person, he's glad he met you, and he wants you to be happy," Dean said, his voice dulling as he spoke. He turned his head so he could push his face into his brother's hair. "Sammy," he whispered brokenly.

Kevin turned away again but, this time, he got off the bed and moved to the floor. He sat on the floor, leaning against the foot of the bed. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, burying his face in his knees. He felt himself shake as he listened to the brothers.

"Sammy, you're gonna be okay. You have to be," Dean said. "You shouldn't move," he added when Sam started to sluggishly move. Dean loosened his arms and let Sam do what he wanted. Once finished, Sam was more curled up, leaning sideways against Dean's chest and his head under Dean's chin. He had his arms wrapped loosely around Dean's torso, his fingers tangled in his brother's shirt.

"De...I..."

"No, don't talk, Sammy," Dean said, holding Sam close again. He buried his face in Sam's hair, rubbing his hands up and down Sam's back.

"De..."

Dean felt his tears finally start to fall. "Don't leave me. Please. I can't lose you, Sammy, not again, not now."

Sam tried to hold onto Dean tighter but he had absolutely no strength left. He was becoming lightheaded as the lack of oxygen set in. His lungs were burning and tears were leaking from his own eyes. He knew their lives had never been fair, he had accepted that, but why now? Why couldn't they get one chance, one thing for themselves? He didn't want to die. Life was actually getting better for once and he was becoming brothers with Dean again, and now he was going to die? It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair!

"D...D..."

Dean choked on a sob, squeezing Sam so tight he was sure he was hurting his little brother. "Sammy, I know it's hard to talk but I want one thing, okay? One thing."

Sam found enough strength to nod against Dean's chest.

Dean dragged one hand up to tangle in Sam's hair. He swallowed thickly. "Say 'I love you', Sammy."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut at the excruciating pain emanating from his heart. "I...I lo...love...you, De...De..."

Dean moved them slightly so he could see Sam's face. He already looked dead. He was so pale, it was as though there was no blood in his body, and there was no life in his blue lips. He gently brushed back Sam's long hair, acknowledging how much he would miss making fun of it and feeling it. He ran his hand affectionately over Sam's cheek, wiping away the tears there. He left his hand there, palm cupping his little brother's cheek.

"I don't care what's happened between us in the past. You've always been my little brother and always been the best part of my life. Nothing has ever and will never be better than you," Dean said, slowly moving his thumb over Sam's cheekbone. "I'm letting you go but I'm not promising I won't follow. We've said together or not at all."

Sam's eyes were falling shut even though he fought it. He was hardly breathing at all now. Dean leaned in and kissed Sam's forehead before pressing their foreheads together.

"I love you, Sammy," he breathed and didn't let go of his little brother even when all movement stopped.

* * *

The Men of Letters' bunker was completely silent. It was as though no one was occupying it. However, the occupants were huddled in one bedroom, in shock as they processed what had just happened.

Kevin was still on the floor and still leaning against the foot of the bed. His legs were stretched out now and his hands limp in his lap as he stared blankly at the wall in front of him. Dean was still sitting on the bed. He still held Sam in his arms, his little brother's head under his chin. He still rubbed Sam's back and ran his fingers through the shaggy hair as he stared dully at the bed's blankets. His tears had stopped but he couldn't move, couldn't release his little brother. Maybe if he held on tight enough, long enough, Sam would come back to him.

He didn't know what to do. It was like back in Cold Oak all those years ago. It was like in Stull Cemetery. He was always so lost after losing his brother. He never knew what the next step was and this time was no different.

What was he supposed to do now?

He and Kevin were badly startled when heavy knocking on the bunker's door echoed throughout the place. They were further startled when the fallen and forgotten feather began to glow. They stared at it, unsure what to do. They jumped again when there was more knocking.

"_Let me in before his lungs stop working, muttonheads_."

Kevin gained a deep frown while Dean's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He knew that voice and he knew it well.

"Kevin, go let him in," Dean said, unable to believe what was happening.

Kevin gave him an incredulous look. "You want to let some...psycho in here?"

"Dude, let him in. I know him," Dean said.

"You're insane," Kevin muttered but got to his feet and rushed through the bunker to the door. He ran up the stairs and unlocked the door, pulling it open to reveal a man about Sam's age leaning on the door frame. He had sandy brown hair and brown eyes that looked like sun shining on a glass of whiskey.

_I need a new hobby aside from those _Supernatural_ books_, he mused. He had gotten Charlie to send him the first few of the Carver Edlund books.

"Move," the man said and shoved Kevin to the side, stumbling down the stairs and towards Sam's bedroom.

Kevin blinked and then quickly followed, wanting to see what this guy was doing.

"What. The. _Hell_?" Dean said, staring in pure shock at the guy they had let into their home.

"Hey, Dean-o," the guy said. "We'll talk later. Give me the Green Giant first."

"What are you going to do?" Dean said, clutching his little brother protectively.

The guy rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna hurt the kid. I'm fond of the two of you so give him so he can, you know, _live_."

Kevin watched as Dean looked down at Sam's pale, unmoving face. The hunter brushed back Sam's hair again, a single tear leaving his eye.

"You can save him?" Dean whispered, locking eyes with the other man. "Isn't he already..."

"Technically, yes," the guy said, "but, Archangel and Trickster, remember? I got tricks of my own."

Dean swallowed thickly and then nodded. He let the guy carefully pull Sam away until Sam was lying flat on the bed next to Dean. He and Kevin watched as the guy put one palm on Sam's forehead and the other on Sam's chest. The guy's eyes closed and a white glow began to appear under his hands. After a few moments the glow stopped and the guy pulled his hands away. Dean glanced at him and then returned his eyes to Sam, dropping a hand on the top of Sam's head and threading his fingers through the hair. Kevin took a few steps closer, all the attention in the room on Sam.

It seemed like hours passed before the impossible happened. Sam's chest jumped and he drew in a deep breath, his eyes racing beneath his eyelids.

"Sammy?" Dean breathed, his eyes wide as he stared at his brother.

One of Sam's hands moved over the bed until it found Dean's leg where it latched on and squeezed weakly.

Kevin couldn't believe it. How was this possible? Sam had been dead, legitimately _dead_. He had been there when Sam took his last shuddering breath, when he fell completely limp against Dean's chest which had made Dean completely lose it.

And then Sam's eyes _opened_.

The hazel was revealed and moved around, trying to focus on something. They found Dean first naturally and then moved again to fall on the guy who had apparently brought him back to life. Sam's mouth moved and he licked his lips before he managed to speak.

"Gabriel?" he whispered.

**To Be Continued...**


End file.
